


the subtle grace of gravity || keyblade master isa au

by crowtective, xigithy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, Master Isa AU, buckle up kiddos we're in for a long ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-06-27 01:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowtective/pseuds/crowtective, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/pseuds/xigithy
Summary: An alternate universe wherein Isa escapes the fate of a nobody and is trained up to be a Keyblade Master.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with this concept on twitter, through a series of art pieces by [@saixbosom](https://twitter.com/saixbosom) and I'm eternally grateful he let me take [the idea](https://twitter.com/saixbosom/status/1148611007679385605) and run with it.

In the deep, twisting underground corridors of the castle on a world called Radiant Garden, two youths cling to each other. They’ve never been quite this far down into the labyrinth- at least not _this_ part of it- and the ominous uncertainty of every sudden hissing pipe or creak of a beam sets them even further on edge. They’d been summoned by one of the apprentices to the lord of the castle not long ago, but the lack of detail concerning why exactly _they were_ needed was enough to send the two boys’ imaginations into overdrive.

“Y’know...it’s not too late to turn back.” 

The red-haired boy- Lea- swallows thickly as he makes the comment, and though his companion can tell from the delivery of it that Lea is joking, there’s a definite hitch in his voice that betrays his bravado. He’s worried and, as the other boy- Isa- peers into a dimly lit corridor as they pass by, he can’t help but share the sentiment. 

“It’s _fine_.” Isa tugs softly on Lea’s hand, urging the other boy forward, and swallows the uncertainty in his own voice. “Besides, Xehanort asked for us specifically- if we don’t show up, he’ll only send Braig to come looking for us.” 

At the mention of Braig, Lea’s pace falters and he pouts; Isa has to tug again on his hand to keep him moving forward. As it is, the two are almost to their destination- so even if they wanted to turn back, someone was more than likely to catch them. 

“I _guess_ …” Lea sighs as he again closes the gap between him and Isa. “It’s just- I mean-” 

The remainder of Lea’s explanation is swallowed by a solitary expression of awe as the two round a corner and are greeted by a great, expansive hall. The walls of the place are lined with what appear to be row after row of glass tubes that seem to extend on well past the horizon of their line of sight. As they step further onto the thick glass pathway, their shared footsteps echoing dully on the pane, Isa can hear the faint static crackle of electricity coming from the depths below them. Cautiously, he slips his hand free from Lea’s grasp and tiptoes to the edge of the path, grabbing for the handrail as he cranes his head over the balcony and down into the darkness beneath. 

“As you can see, we’ve been hard at work.”

Xehanort’s smooth voice seems to cut through the tension of the scene, though his sudden appearance forces something of a startled squeak from the two boys. Almost instinctively they’re back at each other’s sides, and Isa can’t tell who reaches for who first, but within the span of a breath, they’re back to clasping hands, each of them clinging to the others’ as if their very life depends on it. Xehanort stares down his nose at the pair, observing them, and Isa has to suppress the chill that runs down his spine. Has the older man always looked at them like that? 

“...Doing what, exactly?” Lea’s voice, now more than a hint of a tremble to it, asks the question that had been on the tip of Isa’s tongue, and the blue-haired boy gives his friend’s hand a squeeze- encouragement and sheepish thanks imbued in the way he grips it.

At the query Xehanort smirks, a mirthless chuckle escaping from him as he approaches the boys and circles around behind them. “An excellent question, Lea.” Xehanort places a heavy hand on either boy’s shoulders and pushes them forward, not roughly, but with an insistence that sets an alarm bell off in Isa’s head. He leads them, grasp firm enough to imply that they should comply with his guidance, to a room at the end of the walkway- one that, until now, Isa hadn’t even noticed. “I had hoped you two would be willing to assist in some… _experiments_ myself and the other apprentices have been conducting.”

Isa gasps softly and he can feel his blood run icy. The experiments- the investigations into the heart… the rumors of these tests were what had spurred the two to steal into the castle in the first place. Swallowing thickly, he remembers the girl they’d befriended over the course of their visits… she’d been _his plaything_ , the muse which incited the tests to go further, even after Ansem the Wise had bid the other apprentices cease. And she… she disappeared. The realization dawns on Isa and he chances a glance to his right- to Lea- who shares the same wide-eyed look of terror and understanding. The urge to bolt is overwhelming, but, almost as if he can read their shared thought, Xehanort tightens his grip on the boys and drives them properly into the room.

It’s a smallish space- relatively empty save for a massive, hulking mechanical contraption on the right side and a large computer with several screens set against a window that spans the entire length of the left wall. He means to inspect the room further, take it in more thoroughly, but as his eyes scan the confines of the place his gaze settles on a most disturbing sight.

“Even! Ienzo!”

Lea pieces the situation together a fraction of a moment before Isa, and in a flash, the redhead has broken from Xehanort’s grasp and is kneeling on the ground beside the unconscious apprentices. His eyebrows knit together, unbridled concern weeping from his very aura, and Lea leans over Ienzo, inspecting him in a panic.

“What have you done to them?” Isa asks the question for Lea, his voice cracking as his entire body seems to tremble with a fear-tinted rage.

“Nothing that they themselves did not ask for.” Xehanort’s reply is smooth and indifferent as he releases his grip on Isa and seems to glide further into the interior of the room. “You see, they’re men of science, and thus understand better than most how necessary it sometimes is to make sacrifices in its name.”

“But… They- he’s just a _kid,_ ” Lea chokes out from the floor, his tone thick with tears as he continues to hover over the lifeless husks of Even and Ienzo.

“Yes, but a child wise beyond his years. A child with an exceptionally strong heart.” Xehanort crosses to Lea and crouches behind him, setting a heavy hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “...As I suspect you do as well.”

Isa sees the weapon materialize in Xehanort’s hand before Lea does. A massive, strange-looking blade, with teeth like a key, and unlike anything he’s ever seen before in his life. Except… no, that’s not right, is it? The pair had seen something like this before, though when they’d come across the uniquely shaped weapon, it had been a child’s toy- made of wood, not the glinting black and silver metal that now glimmers ominously under the fluorescent lighting. 

Xehanort raises the weapon, drawing it back and positioning it over Lea. As he makes his move, plunging it towards the young boy, Isa makes a break for it, breaking into a full sprint towards his best friend. He connects with the other in a clumsy tackle, and the two slide across the floor, narrowly missing the blow from Xehanort’s blade by mere inches. 

“ _Isa,_ wh-” Lea’s bewilderment at the perceived attack from Isa evaporates in an instant as his eyes settle on the key-looking weapon and the two quickly scramble to put as much distance between them and the blade as possible. 

Xehanort follows after them, an eerie calm in his demeanor as he slowly closes the distance between himself and the cowering children now backed against a wall. Footstep after footstep rings out against the cold stone floor, the only sound in the room other than the ambient beeping and whirring of the machines, and the whimpering cries from the two as they huddle closer. The room’s only exit lies clear on the other side of the room, and Lea and Isa are acutely aware that the chances of them escaping are slim to none. He finally comes to a stop, hardly a foot from them and again, Xehanort raises the blade, poised to strike. 

“Calm yourselves, children. We stand on the precipice of a _monumental_ scientific breakthrough, and you two are lucky enough to be among the key players.” Despite everything, there is a soothing tone to his voice, and were he not presently pointing a weapon over the pair, Isa might believe Xehanort actually means to calm them. But as the thought flashes across his mind, Xehanort brings the great metal sword down, the point of it aimed directly at Lea’s heart.

Instinctively, Isa squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts his arm out before Lea- a meager attempt to shield his best friend from the killing blow, and is surprised to- instead of feeling the bitter sting of blade slicing into flesh- hear the tinny sound of metal striking metal as _something_ materializes in his own hand. His eyes fly open and, all at once, he takes in the sight of his own key-shaped weapon. But where Xehanort’s was black and silver, all sharp angles, and edges, the one in Isa’s hand was a deep blue, peppered with the occasional streak of warm yellow or white and made up of soft, round edges.

There’s a brief shared look of awe from the three in the room, and perhaps the shock of this new development is what causes Xehanort to stumble back a few paces, wide-eyed. As he does, the great metal key falls from his hand and plummets, where it disappears in a burst of what looks like black lightning before it can impact with the stone floor. Gripping his head, Xehanort doubles over and he cries out, though the voice that emanates from him is distorted- almost as if two voices were speaking through him at once.

“ _Isa,_ ” Lea hisses, grabbing for his arm, hand wrapping tightly around Isa’s wrist. Right, of course. Dropping the metal blade in his hand, Isa stands and quickly pulls Lea to his feet. If ever they were going to get a chance, now was it.

But before the two can begin their escape, Xehanort straightens and calls the blade back to his grip with the flexing of his hand. There’s an odd expression on his face, bewilderment mixed with rage, and it keeps the boys glued to the spot. Xehanort thrusts out his free hand, fanning out his fingers with what appears to be a great effort. Isa turns to look quickly behind them, confused at the odd gesture, and is startled by the sight of an inky black darkness that seems to bleed from the very air and melt into an elliptical shape. 

“Go!” The twin voices of Xehanort boom towards the terrified youth and the nearly _pleading_ sound of it convinces Isa to take a hesitant step back. Go _where_? Into the swirling smoke of the darkness behind him? Around the wild-eyed apprentice and through the only certain exit? “ _ **Go**_! I can’t hold him much-”

With another anguished groan, Xehanort lunges forward and grabs Lea roughly by the wrist who- in a panic- releases his vice grip on the other boy and pushes Isa backward, towards the darkness.

In almost slow motion, Isa stumbles back, gasping as he tries simultaneously to right himself and reach back out for Lea. He tumbles backward and can feel the inky blackness begin to wrap its lifelike tendrils around him, pulling him further into the void.

“ _Isa_!” 

Lea screams for him, reaching his arm out for the other boy and Isa reciprocates, stretching his limbs to their very limit as he begs his body to take hold of Lea’s. The darkness pulls him further and Isa can see the wisps of black begin to consume his lower half of his torso. He _can’t_. He can’t leave him like this. 

“ _Lea_!”

With one last push, Isa strains against the pull of the vacuum and he feels his hand brush against the fabric of Lea’s scarf. Gripping wildly at it, Isa wraps his hand around the thing and _pulls_ with all his might. _I have to save him,_ **_please_** _._

A ripping sound seems to tear through the air and, as the fabric of the scarf gives under the strain of Isa’s pulling, Isa’s breath catches in his throat. The brilliant yellow fabric comes undone with one last large rip and severs the connection between the two boys. Isa tumbles backward fully into the inky darkness, scarf in hand, and the blackness of the place clouds his vision, leaving only the desperate howling of his best friend ringing in his ears as the portal begins to close around him. 

“Isa?!

Isa!!

_ISA-_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I've got for now; this first chapter was more to see if I thought I could make this work as a viable series- since I've never written anything longer than a few chapters before. It was a fun exercise and I'm sure I'll get into writing more very soon, but I can't make any promises as far as an update schedule.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa appears in a mysterious land and meets a couple of new faces.

“LEA! L-”

Isa pours from the portal unceremoniously, tumbling to the ground as his voice cracks under the strain of his cries. He throws a useless hand out to try and break his fall, but the disorientation from his sudden exit from the void, and the lingering confusion over  _ what exactly just happened back there, _ has left him reeling; so instead of steadying himself properly, the boy falls flat against the earth, the side of his face connecting squarely with plush, verdant grass. 

A sharp pain shoots through him at the impact site and instantly Isa can taste the faint metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. He makes no genuine attempt to move for a solid minute as he takes mental stock of his injuries, only managing to reach a weak hand to his tender face and brush the split of his lip. Wincing at the contact-  _ stupid, Isa, just stupid _ \- the boy pulls his hand from his mouth and blinks blankly at the crimson streaks staining his fingers. Something about the sight- the red droplets of blood against the backdrop of his skin- triggers  _ something  _ deep in Isa’s heart, and before he can stop himself, hot, wet tears are spilling out and rolling down his cheeks.

The ebbing adrenaline in his body has left him feeling trapped in a sort of limbo- somewhere not quite between tense and languid, and moving his physical form feels like a monumental task that he’s in no way up for; but eventually, with some trouble, Isa manages to finally push himself up and into a seated position. Another beat and he draws his knees to his chest, ignoring the mewling protests from his body, and wraps his arms around them, hugging himself tightly.  _ What is  _ **_happening_ ** _?  _ The singular thought crosses his mind and the proverbial floodgates open. All at once, Isa is overcome by deep, shuddering sobs that shake his entire being. 

He was  _ there _ as it happened, clearly, but there was so much Isa didn’t understand. What exactly had been going on beneath the castle? What had happened to Even and Ienzo- and what did Xehanort mean when he said that they had asked for it? Why had he then come after them; children who, compared to the other apprentices, were useless in the pursuit of intellectual knowledge? And then… what was that  _ thing _ that had appeared in his hand and saved Lea and him from Xehanort’s blow? Why had that then led to the summoning of the inky, black portal- and why had Isa been the only one to escape?

_ Why me? _

_ Why  _ **_me_ ** _? _

_ Why only me? _

The question echoes in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his shell-shocked brain and reverberating louder with each passing second. Why had he alone been allowed to escape and- most importantly- what was happening to Lea now? Was he okay? Had Xehanort decided that one child was better than none, and gone ahead with whatever dastardly thing he’d had planned for them?

He could go back. Try and rescue Lea from the clutches of the man they had once called a friend, but… Isa looks around wildly, blinking through blearly, tear-filled eyes, and notices the portal which had spit him here only moments ago has vanished entirely. And what’s worse- Isa’s not even sure where  _ here _ is. He offers a brief look around the place, tears still streaming down his face, and notices first and foremost how  _ small _ the area is. It’s like an island, except… there’s no discernable ocean to speak of surrounding its coastline. Isa looks off to the edge of the world and sees only a backdrop of dark nothing- stars and void and little else. All around, as far as the eye can see, was nothing but space. If that was the case then this… was this another world?

Isa had heard talk of other worlds before, from the other apprentices, but he and Lea had never paid the concept much mind. It was something beyond them; the mere idea that there were countless worlds upon worlds beyond their own was too much for the two boys to even begin to fathom, and so they had often dismissed the talk as flights of fancy. How foolish they had been.

Now, the thought of his best friend, alone in that place- on  _ another world entirely _ \- without Isa, is enough to turn the boy’s stomach- and all he can do drop his head to his knees and sob harder.  _ It’s not fair. It’s not  _ **_right_ ** _! _ The silent sobs rattle Isa to his core as his inner dialogue runs wild with anger laden guilt- so much so that he does not hear the stranger approaching until a voice is speaking to him, startling, but gentle in a way that almost instantly soothes the alarm away. Isa looks up suddenly, craning to find the source of the small, high-pitched voice, and is surprised to see someone quite tiny standing a few feet to his left. 

“...gosh, are you okay?”

For a moment all Isa can think to do is blink at the stranger, dumbfounded and embarrassed, as he wipes the stream of tears from his bloodshot eyes. Finally, with a pathetic sniffle, Isa opens his mouth to respond- but his eyes fall to the weapon held loosely in the newcomer’s hand, a weapon similar to one he’d only just seen, and Isa scrambles backward- a clumsy, almost animalistic attempt to put space between them. 

“Who are you?” Isa demands, summoning what little strength is left in his heart. “And what is  _ that _ ?”

The stranger frowns, brows knitting together with concern as he holds out the oversized key before him, and considers. He couldn’t just  _ tell _ the boy what the keyblade was,  _ could he _ ? There was the Order to think of, after all. But… something about the way the young boy is staring at it, a vague horror written on his face- the kind that comes from a visceral sort of recognition- and the fact that he’s  _ here _ of all places, assures the King that perhaps now is not the time to protect the World Order.

“Well... I’m Mickey.” He offers the boy a kind smile with his name and brandishes the weapon between them with something akin to pride in his fluid movements. “And this here is a keyblade!”

“Keyblade...” Isa repeats the word, hating how clunky it feels in his mouth, but relaxes nonetheless. Something about Mickey’s aura is soothing, and Isa gets the feeling that this particular keyblade wielder is not an immediate threat to him. “I’m...I’m Isa. Can you- where  _ am _ I, Mickey?”

“You mean ya don’t know?” Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up, wonderment betraying the almost solemn reverence in his question. Isa shakes his head once and, with another frown, he continues. “But… if you don’t know where ya are, then… how’d ya get here?”

A sigh, infused with a sort of distant irritation, forces itself from Isa and he runs a hand down his face. “I don’t  _ know _ . One minute I was home, then there was an… attack, I guess. Then one of those  _ things _ ,” he points at Mickey’s keyblade with a scowl, ”appeared in my hand out of  _ nowhere _ and then…”

Isa trails off, having apparently run out of steam, and collapses back against the grass. As he stares up at the night sky in bitter silence, he tries and fails to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat and managed to snuff the life out the last half of his sentence:  _...then I left my best friend to die alone. _ Even the  _ thought _ stings and, as it crosses his mind, Isa winces as if he’s been struck through the heart. And in a way, he supposes, he has. 

“Well,  _ gosh _ , it sure sounds like you’ve had a rough time of things…” Mickey murmurs, apparently oblivious to the inner turmoil of the teen lying sprawled on the ground, and looks up and out at the darkened sky. “...But if a keyblade just up n’ appeared in your hand then...” He holds his own keyblade up to the sky and squints at it, considering, for a long while. So long, in fact, that Isa has to lift his head to make sure the small keyblade wielder is still standing there. 

Suddenly, Mickey jumps with a short, little gasp- excitement and realization washing over his animated face. “You gotta be a wielder like me! C’mon, we gotta get you inside t’ talk with Master Yen Sid- he’ll know what’s goin’ on!” As he squeaks, hopping with a barely restrained excitement, Mickey gestures backward to a massive, twisting spire that- somehow- had gone unnoticed by Isa until now. 

There’s a definite feeling of unease as Isa takes in the towering, crooked building, but he can’t rightly say if it’s the setting itself or the still lingering anxiety from his confrontation with Xehanort. Either way, Isa realizes his options are more than limited at the moment- and if Mickey says that this Yen Sid could possibly have some answers for him, going inside the tower was a risk he was willing to take.

************

The interior of the tower itself does nothing to assuage the apprehension deep in the pit of Isa’s belly. Though the spire seemed a certain and definite size from the outside, the inside was sprawling and had to be at LEAST twice the size than it logically should have been- as a result, the ascent to the top of the tower seems to take ages. 

As the pair trudge up the steep spiraling staircases of the tower, only to be greeted by a door that always seems to lead to _more_ _stairs_ , Mickey chatters on incessantly about this and that. Isa offers a detached ‘hmm’ when he feels it appropriate but, in truth, he’s very much still wrapped up in his own thoughts- far too much to be concerned with whatever the other keyblade wielder is prattling on about. Although, from what little of the conversation he’s caught, Mickey seems only concerned with filling the silence between them, rather than saying anything particularly thought-provoking. The notion twists his heart into knots- Lea used to do the same thing. Whenever there had been a prolonged silence between them, Lea always felt the inexplicable need to spout whatever asinine thought popped into his head to fill the lull in conversation. Isa hadn’t minded it then; when Lea did it, it was thoughtful and sweet and still somehow comfortable. With Mickey, it feels...off. Like someone went and moved everything in a familiar room a few inches to the left; the content is fundamentally the same, but the atmosphere of it is entirely different.

Isa is so engrossed in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice his guide has stopped and consequently almost runs straight over him. 

“ _ Another _ door,” Isa states plainly, sarcasm lacing every syllable as he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

“Yup!” Mickey chuckles as he reaches for the ornate handle of the door, apparently unperturbed by Isa’s attitude. “Master Yen Sid’ll be just through here.”

He pushes the door open, motioning for Isa to enter and, as the youth crosses the threshold into the chamber, something akin to static electricity seems to prickle at his skin as he takes in the room. It’s not a small place, by any means, but there’s a... _ vibe _ to it, Isa supposes, that seems to fill the entire space and make the room feel far more cramped than it actually is. As the door is shut behind him, Isa notes the enormous desk placed smack in the center of the room, framed by three uniquely shaped windows. Facing the center window- the one cut into the shape of a crescent moon- stands a tall figure; this would be the “Master Yen Sid” Mickey had mentioned, Isa muses. As the Master continues to peer out the window, either oblivious to the pair’s intrusion on his solitude or uncaring, Isa can’t help but be a little… well, disappointed by the state of him. Isa had expected someone far more imposing- someone perhaps, at least  _ visually _ , worthy of the title of master, and not the aging man before him. 

“I see you have been safely delivered unto us,” The Master speaks, his low voice filling the room almost unnaturally, and Mickey starts a bit, jumping at the sudden boom of it.

“Master Yen Sid.. you were expectin’ him?” 

“Indeed…” He nods in acknowledgment of the question and takes a moment before explaining. “The movements of the keyblade’s chosen are readily available to me, and though I was not certain to whom these new movements belonged, the mere existence of them was a sign that another chosen wielder had sprung into existence.” 

Finally, Yen Sid turns slowly from the window and faces Isa, looking down his long nose at the boy, considering him. Another chill runs up Isa’s spine, and as he breaks the eye contact between them, looking away with a huff, it occurs suddenly to him that Isa isn’t even sure what this Yen Sid is the Master  _ of _ . Mickey hadn’t thought to explain the honorific further or if he had, it had been during their ascent of the tower, when Isa had been preoccupied.

“It has been many moons since one fit to wield a keyblade has made themselves known to the worlds,” Yen Sid continues, striding to the large wooden desk and sitting behind it in one fluid motion. “And- what I find most curious- is that those wielders undertook vigorous training in order to summon their keyblades; yet yours appeared to you of its own accord, yes?”

Isa can’t help but draw a long sigh at the question, rolling his eyes in response. “I already told him,” he jerks his head at Mickey who blinks, wide-eyed, between the two. “We- my best friend and I- were attacked. I was trying to keep him from getting hurt and it just… happened.” 

Yen Sid is silent as Isa explains, and as the boy trails off, the Master offers only a thoughtful hum as a reply. Annoyed, Isa opens his mouth again to speak- to demand more of an explanation from the man, but is preemptively cut off. “One must possess a heart of immeasurable strength to produce a keyblade in such a manner. That yours was borne in an instant, of an earnest desire to protect a cherished person, speaks volumes.”

“Master…” Mickey pipes up suddenly, an odd sort of respectful reverence in his voice as he speaks to the older man. “D’you think he’s got what it takes to train?”

“Perhaps.” Yen Sid’s brows knit together and his beady eyes fall shut as he meditates on the situation. “Were this an ideal situation, I might pass you on to Master Eraqus, as he was the one responsible for the training of new wielders. Unfortunately, it has been over a year since he was mercilessly struck down, and so it would appear the task of training you would fall to me.”

At the mention of the second master’s name a tangible gloom falls over the chamber, and it only deepens further as Master Yen Sid drones on. But the sympathy Isa might have felt for the loss of their fallen comrade evaporates, vaporizing almost instantly into a cloud of indignance. How dare this man- this “Master” he’s only  _ just met _ , listen to the briefest bit of Isa’s tale and just  _ decide _ what he’s to do? How can he sit there, all but oblivious to the fact that Isa is a real,  _ pained _ human person, and make the decision to apprentice him?

Temper flaring, Isa approaches the desk and slams both of his hands against the smooth wooden top. At the noise Yen Sid’s eyes creak open- unperturbed, as if Isa had only politely bid his attention- and from the other side of the room, Mickey gasps.

“Hold on.” Isa swallows thickly, struggling to keep the trembling anger from his voice. “You don’t know anything about me- you haven’t even asked for  _ my name _ yet! And you’re just going to sit there and decide that I’m going to train to wield a giant key that just appeared to me, out of nowhere?!”

With a growl, Isa pushes himself off of the desk and begins to pace the room; if the sudden outburst from the teen has bothered Yen Sid, he makes no indication of it, and simply gazes expectantly at Isa.

“I just want to go  _ home _ ! I want to see Lea again!” His voice cracks, emotion getting the better of him, and Isa balls the hands at his side into tight fists as tears well up in his eyes and begin to stream down his cheeks. “...I just want to make sure he’s  _ okay _ . I-”

He cuts himself off, embarrassed, and reaches a sleeve up to wipe the tears from his face forgetting, for about the millionth time, of the lacerations and bruising on his cheeks. Mickey approaches Isa, a genuine concern written all over his tiny face, and pats Isa’s leg as reassuringly as possible.

“Home,” Yen Sid speaks again, having decided the tide of rage from Isa has stemmed. “Even now, as we speak, the veritable paradise that was Radiant Garden is being twisted and broken into a hollow shell of its former self. There is nothing there left for you. There will, very soon, be no ‘home’ left to return to.”

Isa sniffles, pathetic, and frowns at the Master. He wants to ask how exactly Yen Sid knows where home is for Isa, or how he can divine the apparent fate of the place without having- as far as Isa can tell- ever set foot there. But Yen Sid only shakes his head and continues.

“If what is happening to your home and to your friend is in any way connected to our current predicament, it would be very dangerous indeed for you to return unarmed and unaided. A very powerful wielder has been eluding us for quite some time, and I fear he may be the root cause of your hardships.”

Isa’s blood turns to ice in his veins, and he can feel what little color is left in it draining from his face. A powerful wielder. There was no way- it couldn’t be…. And yet, from the sounds of things, keyblade wielders were not something available in abundance.

He approaches the desk again, meekly, and this time when he sets his hands upon the wooden slab, it’s to keep them from shaking with an uncontrollable anxiousness as he asks the question that’s burning a worried pit into his stomach.

“...who is this wielder? The one you’ve been looking for?”

“His name...” Yen Sid frowns, looking for a moment between Mickey and Isa. “ _Xehanort_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the hell is a posting schedule???
> 
> anyway, thank you all SO much for the feedback here and on twitter. I'm not the best with responding to everything, but each comment and kudos honestly means so much, and it's a huge incentive to keep writing this fic for y'all.
> 
> As always, thanks to twitter user saixbosom for this au and my life; I love you!


	3. iii. secret reports: lea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three years since Isa left him, but Lea is still holding out hope he'll see his friend again soon; Xigbar is more than happy to deliver.

He counts the passage of time with each rising of the moon.

Each night, when she greets him, Lea counts the death of the day out loud- engraves the number in his memory and holds it there for safekeeping. There are nights of course, like tonight, when the moon is missing. When the darkened sky is empty and left aching for that treasured piece of it that lights the heavens above with its radiance. Those nights are the hardest for Lea. The new moon, blackened and absent from the night sky, too often reminds him of his  _ own _ missing moon and how he too longs for that missing piece of him to return.

“Well, Isa… today makes 1,095. It’s-” Lea tears his gaze from the giant bay window with a forlorn sigh, and absently rubs at the purple marks beneath his eyes; an inside joke with Isa in his past life, but now, the only tangible thing he’s got left of the other boy. “It’s been three years to the day since, well…”

He heaves another sigh and sinks deeper into the uncomfortable couch he’s perched on. If the Grey Room of the castle was good for  _ anything _ , it was for Lea’s nightly ritual of waiting for the other Nobodies to retire for the night, pushing the sleek grey couch of the lounge up against the humungous bay window, and holding conversations with the moon. It was a habit he’d picked up around the first week or so after they’d brought him here- to the World That Never Was. A bit of a  _ dramatic _ name, in Lea’s humble opinion but, then again, nearly everything Xehanort’s nobody did was a little on the dramatic side. Even the name  _ he’d _ been given, upon his reawakening as a nobody, had the same melodramatic flair to it. Axel: the Flurry of Dancing Flames. 

He’d told Isa all about it, once he’d become cognizant enough to remember the ache of missing his friend, and- in his head- the two had had a fun time poking fun at the solemnity of the group- Organization XIII. Another thing that made no sense to Lea- there were meant to be thirteen of them, but at the moment, the Organization’s numbers stood only at a meager seven. The implication that Xemnas meant to recruit more members into their fold never sat quite right with Lea, but what always struck him as truly unsettling was the fact that Axel had been designated the number VIII, despite no eighth member to speak of. It was...almost as if Xemnas was  _ reserving _ the title ‘VII’, for a person Lea was too fearful to acknowledge as someone who was, for all intents and purposes, meant to exist among their ranks. Lea frowns deeply and pleading emerald eyes look back out the window.

“I miss you, Isa.” 

The confession is not one that’s gone unspoken to the darkness and, distantly, he can’t help but wonder if the moon’s grown tired of the mantra- grown bored with hearing of how Lea longs to be reunited with the one person in all the worlds that he misses more than anything. Drawing a long leg up to his chest, Lea hugs it close and sets his chin atop his knee. He wants to cry- he knows in his heart of hearts that he does- but no matter how hard he wishes the tears into existence, they don’t come. Again, he swipes idly at a purple teardrop on his cheek. Whatever “magic” Isa had imbued in the marks when they were children had been somehow amplified upon Lea’s death and rebirth into Axel. The inverse teardrops, once drawn in marker that had been meant to keep an overly-emotional child from crying at the drop of a hat, were now permanent stains on his skin that kept much the same purpose.

“...still waiting on Little Boy Blue to swoop in and save you, huh?” 

The sudden sharp revelation that he’s no longer alone with his thoughts makes Lea jump, and he nearly rolls off the couch as he twists his neck to glare at the intruder. For someone as loud and obnoxious as Xigbar, the older man sure was an expert at sneaking up on Lea- much to the younger man’s annoyance.

“Fuck off.” Lea spits the vitriolic words at Xigbar, grabbing a throw pillow off the couch and flinging it with all his might at the Freeshooter. The thing seems to phase straight through Xigbar’s chest and, in a fraction of a fraction of a second, the Organization’s No. II is standing uncomfortably close to Lea, leaning over him with a grin.

“What wrong, copper-top, struck a nerve?” 

“Shut  _ up _ , will ya?” The retort is considerably weaker and grumbled more than outright spoken at the other, but if Lea’s learned anything during his forced incarceration with the other members of the Organization, it’s that Xigbar will quickly lose interest in bothering a person if he can’t get a proper rise out of them.

But still, Xigbar barks a laugh, setting a hand on his hip and uses his free one to mime wiping a tear from where his right eye should be. “Man, oh man, did Xemnas ever pick a winner with you. I  _ told _ him we should’ve gone looking for the other one, but  _ noo _ .”

With a growl, Lea swallows the flash of anger that threatens to engulf him and tries to center himself. Xigbar’s always known which buttons to press with Lea- even before they were nobodies- but even so, Lea is a little annoyed that the other man would move straight for the one most likely to send the redhead into a rage. 

“Don’t you have somewhere  _ else _ to go be an  _ ass _ at?”

Xigbar crosses around to the other side of the couch, an amused chuckle emanating from him as he leans lazily on the back of it. 

“As if. Everyone else is off getting their beauty sleep; ‘s just you and me.” There’s a beat of silence between them as Xigbar fixes Lea with a contemplative stare. Something about the way his one, yellow eye bores into Lea unsettles the redhead, but before he can make a snide comment about it, Xigbar is speaking again, and his tone is surprisingly somber. “Face it kiddo, if he was gonna come for you, he would’ve already.”

If looks could kill, Xigbar would be dead ten times over. 

Lea clenches a fist tightly and can feel the heat and fire of his burning hatred for Xigbar begin to lick at the tips of his fingers. It would be almost  _ too _ easy to give in to his fury- to let the fire run free and swallow Xigbar without so much as a warning. But he can’t imagine the “Superior” would be all too pleased with Axel deep-sixing the second in command, and there are too many things Lea still needs Xemnas for- too many plans that hinge on cozying up to Xehanort’s nobody. So instead, Lea only shifts in his seat, leaning forward to fix Xigbar with a steady glare.

“You don’t know  _ anything _ . About me _or_ Isa.” He grits his teeth, focusing desperately on trying to keep the angry warble in his voice to a minimum. “Now get lost, before I make it so you have to wear  _ two _ eyepatches instead of just one.”

If Xigbar is at  _ all _ intimidated by the low threat in Axel’s voice, he makes no indication of it. He only purses his lips and lolls his head lazily to one side, as if deep in thought. Axel huffs, the indignant annoyance swelling in his core, and he opens his mouth to speak again. 

“Fine.” Xigbar beats him to the punch, straightening off the couch with a low groan. Lea blinks dumbly at the other man, surprised that the ultimately hollow threat seems to have worked. But as Xigbar rolls his shoulders and begins to walk towards the glass of the front wall, he calls out to Lea, and there’s the slightest air of taunting in his voice. “But first? C’mere. I wanna show you something.”

Lea can see the darkness begin to thread from the tips of Xigbar’s fingers and, not half a second later, a Corridor portal warbles into existence against the glass. 

“I know a  _ lot _ more than I let on, Sunspot.” Looking over his shoulder and back to Lea, Xigbar grins and Lea can feel a shiver run up his spine as their eyes meet. The unease Lea feels as the other man stares him down is palpable, even to Xigbar- who only chuckles humorlessly and shrugs as he begins to walk into the portal. Before the darkness swallows him entirely, Xigbar calls out again to Lea, the same arrogant tone in his taunt. “Y’know... he looks good. Got tall.”

And that’s all it takes for Lea to be caught in Xigbar’s web; without another word, Lea is flying off the couch- nearly tripping of his own feet- and flinging himself into the portal behind Xigbar.

************

The world that they exit the Corridor into isn’t one Lea’s been to before. Almost immediately, a brisk breeze dances around them- as if welcoming the nobodies- and the accompanying smell of rotting leaves fills his nose. Lea can’t get a decent sense of the time of day, but the hazy dusk that casts the surrounding woods in an otherworldly glow leads him to believe it must be getting late.

“Through here.” Xigbar trudges ahead through the crunching foliage, weaving through the trees with a practiced confidence that leads Lea to believe that this is far from the first time he’s been here. 

He follows Xigbar obediently, Lea’s curiosity winning out over his vague concern that Xigbar’s brought him here only to dispose of Lea in a way that won't permanently stain the Castle red with his blood. As he trips his way over the gnarled roots protruding from the woods’ floor, Lea can’t help but think there’s something… off about this world. There’s something about the atmosphere of it that makes the hair on the back of Lea’s neck stand straight up and makes him jump at the slightest of sounds. 

The silence between the two as they travel only heightens the anxiety building in Lea’s chest- only amplifies every distant squawk of a crow and every snapping of a branch, distracting him to the point where he doesn’t even notice as the trees begin to gradually thin and morph instead into crooked stone gravemarkers, or recognize the dirt path giving way to uneven cobblestone. In fact, Lea doesn’t even notice that Xigbar’s stopped walking and runs straight into the arm that the other man’s outstretched to keep Lea from going too far.

Scowling, Lea pushes the arm away, ready to tell Xigbar off for not announcing his halt, but the wind carries a sound to him then that stops Lea dead and turns the blood in his veins to ice. A voice breaking the stillness of the autumn air, aged by time but still familiar to the point where the mere sound of it is like a vice grip tightening on Lea’s chest.

“...Isa?”

Straining his ears, Lea looks around wildly for the source of the sound, sure that it was  _ him- _ that it was really, truly  _ Isa _ . But- it couldn’t be, right? There was no way Isa had been here the whole time, right under Lea’s nose.

It’s not until Xigbar silently flicks the lobe of Lea’s ear and points to a shabby graveyard off in the distance that he sees him. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of brilliant blue hair- longer now than the last time he’d seen it- and Lea can feel the loose stitches that once bound the twisting ache of missing Isa torn asunder. His whole body seems to vibrate with a chaotic energy and it screams at Lea to ‘go, run to him; take Isa and go  _ home _ , where you can pretend the last three years have been nothing but a nightmare’. Lea takes a step forward, irked by the way his body seems to be responding in slow motion, but before he can force himself to break into a full-blown sprint, Xigbar is gripping his shoulder tightly.

“Pump the breaks, Red; you know the rules.”

Lea whirls around to face Xigbar, shrugging the hand off his shoulder in disgust. The rules? The Organization was supposed to stay hidden, but that rule typically only applied to denizens of a world- which Isa was clearly not. 

“ _ Screw _ the rules; he’s  _ right there _ , I- I need to see him.”

With a huff Lea turns back around, ready to bolt, but Xigbar’s nabbed him before he gets the chance, a gloved hand grabbing tightly on a fistful of bright red hair. Lea gives a pained yelp, reaching in vain for Xigbar’s arm.

“What and mess up Xemnas’ big plan? As  _ if _ . I’m not exactly looking to getting turned into a dusk, I have  _ plans _ tomorrow.” He gives a sharp tug on the hair in his grip, pulling Lea down to eye level, and takes a deep breath through his nose. “...look. You’ve been on recon duty before; take a look around first, tell me what you see.”

Whatever protests Lea has about the situation dies as he looks eye to eye with Xigbar and notes how serious the other man looks. There’s something he’s not telling Lea- not outright- something he wants the younger nobody to figure out for himself. Wordlessly, Lea nods once, and Xigbar loosens his grip on Lea’s hair; not enough to let the other man roam free, but enough to allow for him to survey the area. 

He peers to the graveyard up ahead and instantly notices that Isa is not alone; the mouse king- the one mentioned occasionally by the other members of the Organization- stands a few feet to Isa’s right. The two appear to be talking cordially-  _ laughing _ even- and the sight of Isa smiling is like a traitorous knife in his heart. Isa leans against a stone wall with a cocky grin, holding his hand out before him, and a moment later a large, key-shaped thing materializes in his hand. 

Lea gasps softly and he can feel the color draining from his face as he watches Isa off in the distance, brandishing the key thing and grinning. How… how could he still stand to use that thing- let alone  _ look _ at it? It had been the very thing that had driven them apart, the entire reason Lea was  _ here _ and Isa was  _ there _ .

He feels the hand fall from his hair, and beside him, Xigbar gives a humorless chuckle. 

“You have any idea the  _ power _ those things have?” Lea shoots Xigbar a glare and the other man holds up a defensive hand, shrugging before continuing. “‘Course you do. You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“So?”

“ _ So _ , they got him training to be what they call a “Keyblade Master”; and little bluebonnet there’s been  _ all _ over the worlds.”

Axel can feel the bile rising in his throat as Xigbar lays out the bait for him. He’s not a stupid man, he knows what Xigbar is trying to do, but as he stares unblinking at his old friend- laughing and playing with someone who should be him- Axel can’t bring himself to care that he’s playing right into Xigbar’s hand.

“Does  _ that _ look like someone who’s been searching high and low for you? Cause… to me, it kinda looks like he forgot all about you as soon as he stepped through that portal and left you for dead.”

Another beat and Xigbar sets a hand on Axel’s shoulder, soft and almost sympathetic. His voice is low, and gentle in a way Axel doesn’t think he’s ever heard from the other man.

“The Organization’s the only thing you got now, Axel. Keyblade wielders? Pfft, they’ll leave you in the dust as soon as you become an inconvenience. They’re- only out for themselves.” 

There’s something in the way Xigbar’s voice catches that would lead Lea to think that, maybe, Xigbar actually knows what he’s talking about but, at the moment, all he can really focus on is Isa. Lea’s bright green eyes follow the keyblade as Isa swings it in jest, and every wave of the thing feels like a strike upon him. The scowl deepens onto his face as the mouse king says something to Isa that doubles his old friend over in laughter and Axel can feel fire begin to thread from the tips of his fingers. This whole time… he wasn’t even  _ looking _ . 

Axel clenches his fist tightly, snuffing the flames out into grey smoke, and turns on a heel to walk towards the Corridor that’s appeared before him. 

“Let’s  _ go _ ,” He calls out to Xigbar, his voice dull. “We’re done here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for putting up with my sporadic posting schedule. I don't have any of these chapters written in advance, so you pretty much get them AS I finish. I'm still having so much fun writing this AU, so I hope you guys are willing to stick around as I wade through the mess of a plot I have in mind.
> 
> In that same vein, I'm currently getting ready to host a Saix zine (check it out [here](https://twitter.com/SaixZine)!) so updates are going to be slow going until that's all done.


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mark of Mastery: part one

“Eight years have now passed since you arrived here.” Yen Sid’s voice spills forth into the room of the Tower, filling the space as if he himself were amplifying his words supernaturally- though his tone remains somber and low. “And in those eight years, you have learned much in the ways of the Keyblade’s chosen.”

Isa stands before the former Master, face blank as the speech is given. With a slow inhale through his nose, he grips the handle of his keyblade- Lunar Eclipse, as it had been christened- and shifts his weight anxiously. Off to his left, Mickey stands with the same somber expression as Yen Sid, and Isa can’t help but offer a passing thought to the fact that the mouse king has left his kingdom yet  _ again _ , to be here for this. A smile ghosts across Isa’s face, and he reminds himself to bring that to  _ His Majesty's _ attention after the exam’s conclusion.

“Today you are to be tried for the Mark of Mastery.” With a wave of his hand over the desk before him, Master Yen Sid summons several projections. “This will be a test not of will, but of heart; and should you listen to it in earnest, as I’ve no doubt it will ultimately lead you to Mastery. I trust that you are ready.”

Isa nods, willing away his keyblade, and takes a step forward to bend and examine the projections on the desk further. There are a few miniature world models floating inches above the desk, but at first glance, they don’t appear to be any worlds Isa is familiar with.

“You have been made aware of the disturbance that I sensed materializing throughout the worlds,” Yen Sid continues. He waves away the world models and, in their place, appear several inky black creatures- twitchy in movement with wide yellow eyes and antennae that seem to flick and move independently of their master. Isa swallows a sigh of wonderment, watching the creatures wiggle erratically around the desk. “These creatures- beings of pure darkness, devoid of hearts- have begun to manifest amongst the worlds themselves. It cannot be mere coincidence that where these creatures go, total loss and destruction of a world follow.”

“I presume that’s where I come in.” 

“Indeed. You are tasked with visiting one of these newly infested worlds to see if the source of these creatures- these  _ heartless- _ can be discerned.” As the Master speaks, the projected heartless wiggle towards a singular point on the table and begin to pile atop one another until they’ve melded to form a massive swarm of darkness, which twists and moves as if it were a single hivemind. “If you are successful in this first, crucial task, it will aid us greatly in our coming efforts to stop the heartless and their machinations. Do this, and you will be rewarded with the Mark.” 

With one last wave, Master Yen Sid dismisses the heartless projections, and the three are once again alone in the small room. Standing upright, Isa frowns, still staring intently at the space on the wooden desk where the spire of heartless has been projected just a moment ago. Mickey had told him on numerous occasions that one’s Mark of Mastery varied from person to person, and yet Isa had expected something a little… different. Where previous masters had been tasked with great battles to conquer the darkness in their hearts or arduous missions to save the fates of many worlds, he had been given… reconnaissance. 

“You will set out immediately, to a small world called Prydain.” The Master’s deep voice heads off Isa’s contemplation with the gentle insistence that he’s come to expect from Yen Sid. “The heartless have only just begun to spawn there, and so this location will likely be instrumental in your examination. Go, now, and may your heart be your guiding key.”   
  


* * *

Outside the tower, Isa hesitates. 

As he stands, summoned keyblade in hand and eyes turned up to the stars, he takes a moment to reflect. He’d been resistant to the training at first; though the Master insisted that Isa had been chosen to wield the keyblade for a reason, Isa always felt in the deepest recesses of his heart that the blade belonged to another. He could never put his finger on the exact reason  _ why _ , but there was always a horrible, nagging voice that would whisper to him in those few moments he was totally alone that he was undeserving of the honor. That there was no mastery in leaving a loved one to die. That there was nothing in him worthy enough to be called Master.

During those first few years, the monsters in his heart had prevailed; and so Isa had fought the Master in his teachings every step of the way. A keyblade master had boundless courage in the face of danger, and Isa had merely slinked away into darkness when his bravery had been needed most. A keyblade master could summon his weapon at will, use it as an extension of his own body, and yet it had taken Isa nearly a full two years before the thing heeded his call and was again summoned to his side. 

Frowning, Isa grips the handle of the blade tightly before smoothly tossing it up in the air. As the blade shifts and changes form into his glider, he recalls the exact moment it had returned to him.

Yen Sid had exhausted nearly every option; no amount of meditation or training exercises would call the blade to Isa, and so the only thing he could think to do was delve deep into Isa’s memories in an attempt to recreate the conditions in which it had originally been summoned. He had been put in a deep, preternatural stasis and the scene had played out before him as if it were happening again. There was very little Isa remembered about the experience, only that when he had awakened, Lunar Eclipse was firmly clenched in his hand.

_ It was always you, Lea.  _ The aircraft glides to a halt before him, and Isa takes a second to sweep his mess of hair from his face and into a high ponytail.  _ You were always the strength I needed to keep going. Everything- all of this, it’s been for you.  _

With one last nod, Isa taps a portion of the gauntlet on his arm and, in an instant, armor has enveloped him. He climbs atop the glider, letting it levitate off the ground as he settles into it, and takes one last moment to grip tightly at the frayed, yellow checkered scarf tied around his neck.

“I’m going to bring you home, Lea. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

* * *

The glider bursts from the Lanes and skates to a halt on the outskirts of a massive, dense forest. 

As Isa dismounts, calling the keyblade back to its usual form and willing it away his armor in one swift motion, he takes a moment to take in his surroundings. The immediate area is unassuming; he’s landed in a meadow that runs along the edge of the forest, still and almost idyllic in its atmosphere, with a small brook that winds and flows further into the wooded area, and tiny pink and blue flowers nearly as far as the eye can see. 

If this world has been infested with heartless, it would appear that this location remains one of the last areas unaffected by their plague.

Off in the distance, he can see a vast, craggy mountain range that’s framed ominously in dark clouds. The sky above the mountains seems aflame, like smoldering embers clinging obstinately to the stars, and Isa can only just make out the faint dots of some massive beastly things flying in lazy, oblong circles around the highest peak. If the heartless were anywhere, it was likely there. 

He takes off into the forest, breathing in the scent of petrichor as he begins to duck and step over the gnarled branches and roots that seem to permeate the place. Something about the wooded area strikes Isa with a sense of foreboding, and he can’t shake the feeling that- despite the forest being dreadfully, unnaturally still- he’s being  _ watched _ by someone- or some _ thing _ . The feeling is prevalent enough that Isa is distracted for far longer than he is comfortable with; every shadow in the peripherals of his vision, every twig snapping under his boots, is an unwelcome diversion. Before long, he realizes the sun has dipped well below the horizon and that, despite his usually trustworthy navigational skills, he appears to be lost. 

Isa swears under his breath as he kicks a rock. An  _ excellent _ display of Mastery, he thinks to himself. For him to be tasked with such a simple assignment and to manage to get lost without seeing so much as a hint of a heartless? He sighs, frustrated. Perhaps he’s not ready for this. Perhaps… perhaps the Master would take him back, allow him the grace of more training and preparation. Perhaps-

A sudden shrill sound rips through the still air. 

He freezes, mid-step and eyes wide as the distressed sound dies out almost as suddenly as it had appeared. Isa looks around wildly, straining his ears for the source of the disturbance. It had sounded organic- almost animalistic in nature and, as his heart pounds against the confines of his chest, he struggles to place exactly what the noise was. It sounds out again, closer this time, and Isa takes off- flying through the forest in its direction as fast as his feet will carry him. 

Less than a minute later he bursts into a small clearing and, in the rising moonlight, he can only just make out the shadowy silhouettes all around him; great beastly wyvern looking things that seem to melt into existence before his very eyes. 

“ _Heartless_!” 

Gripping Lunar Eclipse tightly and gritting of his teeth, Isa charges the heartless, cutting through the creatures as a sword through silk- pausing only for half a breath to notice the pink, iridescent heart that seems to float up and into the sky with each felled enemy. The creatures turn their attention from their prey to the keyblade wielder and rush Isa but, one by one, the heartless are slain until, finally, Isa is left alone, panting from exertion as crystalline hearts ascend all around him.

It’s not until he feels a gentle nudging at the calf of his boot that Isa remembers he had been called here for a reason. He whirls around, ready to strike should he need to, and is surprised to see not an enemy, but a small pink sow, sitting beside him. He blinks at the pig a moment, cocking his head curiously at the animal, and is amazed to see it mirror his movement. 

“You must be a very valuable creature if you’ve attracted the attention of the heartless.” With a soft chuckle, Isa crouches to the pig’s level, reaching a gentle hand out to her. The pig seems almost to smile at him, and pushes its head into his palm, indicating that he should pet it. “Either that or you’ve an extraordinary light within you. Which is it, hmm?”

The pig snorts softly in response, wagging her tail as Isa continues to scratch her head. 

“I suspect I should  _ thank _ you,” he murmurs, though more to himself than the animal. “I had nearly given up hope of finding them… I don’t suppose you would know where else they’re hiding, would you?”

At the question, the pig blinks slowly at him, looking into Isa’s eyes with an understanding that he would expect more from a human, rather than a barnyard animal. She pulls away from his touch, grabbing at his sleeve with her mouth, and begins to tug Isa insistently towards a nearby stream of water, nearly tipping him over as she pulls him. Wordlessly he follows the animal, half taken aback at its sudden activity, half curious as to what she’s trying to show him.

The pair reach the water and with one last emphatic snort, the sow releases her grip on him and plods to the very edge of widest part of the stream to gently touch her snout to the still water. At once, the water begins to swirl and ripple unnaturally and with a frown, Isa leans forward to see what exactly is causing the disturbance of the current. He peers into the water and is shocked to see wisps of colored  _ something _ dancing beneath the water, twisting and shaping themselves into form before his eyes.

He gasps softly, transfixed, as the shapes move before him; dark inky blobs form into what look like hooded wraiths that melt into wisps of red and orange- fire- dancing wildly beneath the surface of the pool before exploding into a brilliantly colored X shape.

A great cracking noise registers in the near distance, and Isa tears his eyes away from the images in the water long enough to look up and notice the sudden threads of smoke that have begun to snake into the clearing. The smell of ash and soot fills his nostrils and his entire body tenses. A fire. Isa turns back to the sow, ready to grab her and take flight, but sees her already scurrying off in the opposite direction of the flames.

With a frown, Isa offers one last look to the stream and notices how the last image she had shown him- the X- seems burned into the surface. He blinks at the shape, observing it at it ripples atop his own reflection in the water. What had the pig been trying to show him? Why had she shown him these images in particular?

Another crack reaches Isa, startling him out of his reflection. Right, the fire. With a deep breath, he steels himself and takes off in the direction of the orange flames that have just begun to peek through the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just posting a little something to set up for the _real_ fun that's about to happen. ;)
> 
> As always, y'alls comments, kudos, and general screaming at me are greatly appreciated; I appreciate every single one of you who still checks up on this silly au I adopted.


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mark of Mastery: part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some graphic-ish violence; please proceed with caution.

As he weaves between fallen branches and smoldering trees on his search for the source of the blaze, Isa’s train of thought remains stuck on the images shown to him by the small sow only moments ago. While he can’t say for certain that the forms dancing beneath the surface of the water had been an omen, Isa has been to enough worlds over the span of his training to know that animals didn’t typically have otherworldly powers for no reason. Moreover, animals with prophetic powers didn’t tend to showcase their abilities to others unless that which they were revealing was particularly relevant to whomever they were showing.

Isa’s musings are disturbed as a flaming branch suddenly snaps and falls with a thunderous  _ thud _ to the forest floor. He slows to a jog, then halts entirely, pausing to double over with his hands on his thighs. He sucks in deep breaths of ashen air, wincing as the smog chokes and burns his lungs. The blaze hasn’t been burning for very long but the intensity of it has already left the atmosphere wanting for oxygen, and so Isa struggles to catch his breath against the heat of the flames, growing more light-headed with each unsatisfying breath.

He tugs the yellow checkered scarf tied snugly around his neck loose and pulls the fabric over his mouth and nose, immediately grateful for the thin protective barrier that it offers against the fury of the fire around him. Isa sucks in another shallow breath and manages to gather enough of his focus to cast a proper Reflect spell. A barrier of light bubbles into existence, encapsulating him fully, and the clean air of the small space immediately hits his lungs like rain after a long drought. His head begins to clear and, as he reaches a hand up to wipe the sweat and soot from his face, Isa notices a gap in the line of fire before him. He squints, noting the unnatural way the fire seems parted- like two invisible walls are keeping the flames at bay- but has little time to consider it further, as the magical barrier surrounding him begins to fail. It blinks- once, twice, three times- before shattering like glass and disappearing entirely, leaving Isa out in the open and vulnerable to the merciless heat of the blaze.

Looking back, Isa can see a wall of fire has effectively formed a blockade behind him, cutting off whatever viable escape route still existed. He sends a well-aimed Water spell towards the wall, hoping to reclaim the path, but the intensity of the heat is too much for it and the water only sizzles into steam at the impact. Cursing under his breath, Isa frowns deeply; It would seem the only option forward is through the path laid forth by the fire. 

Almost as if it can hear his thoughts, the wall of flames behind him lurches forward, and the sweltering heat of its proximity to him prompts Isa to set off. He runs through the twisting maze that’s been laid out for him, weaving and turning along the serpentine path, until he’s arrived at another clearing- this one smaller than the one where he met the oracle pig.

He steps forward and is instantly taken aback by how eerily still the area is. The flames have yet to reach the clearing- instead only dancing along the border of it, again as if help back by some invisible force- but the surrounding wildlife has already long since fled, leaving the whole field vacant. Every step Isa takes against the still verdant grass seems to echo unnaturally and as he approaches the center of the space, he can’t help but feel as if his steps have attracted the attention of some unseen assailant. A shiver runs down the length of his spine, and something-  _ something- _ in his gut prompts him to summon his keyblade.

No sooner than he grips the handle of Lunar Eclipse does it happen. 

Fire shoots up from the forest floor in great plumes: massive columns that explode to life, one after another, in quick succession. Isa, startled by the sudden occurrence, watches wide-eyed as the pillars of flame circle the edge of the clearing and form an inescapable ring of fire around him. He dives into action, shooting Water spell after spell but, like before, the summoned water merely evaporates at the impact against the fire.

In a very unsettling way, the fire seems to almost  _ laugh _ at Isa’s attempts to extinguish it- thick cords of flame twist and flail against the ashen sky- and it begins to move. The circle lurches forward in unison, spreading the forest fire and stealing away what little ground is left untouched by the blaze. Isa backs up in sync with the proliferating flames, stopping only when the flames do. All at once, they cease their advancement and grow still. Though the fire still burns as hot and bright as ever, the dancing flames have grown motionless, and they flicker now only as a lit candle wick might. If there were still any doubt in Isa’s mind that the fire had magical properties, the sudden about-face in its aggressiveness has more than quelled them.

_ Maybe...maybe this is part of the Master’s test _ . Isa frowns deeply, eyebrows knitting together, and grips the handle of his keyblade a little tighter. He had been sent only for reconnaissance- would Master Yen Sid really lie to him like that? He has very little time to consider the matter, as  _ something _ whizzes just past his ear from behind Isa and into the fire before him.

He whirls around, his body tensing, and notices for the first time  _ another person  _ standing in the clearing across from him- maybe ten yards away.

They hadn’t been there only moments ago when he’d arrived, of that Isa is certain. But then, if that were truly the case, where would they have come from? He squints at the figure, clad head to toe in a black leather cloak, and a soft gasp escapes him as he recalls the wraith forms shown to him by the oracle pig.

“Who are you?” He yanks the scarf from over his face as he shouts the inquiry at the stranger and readys his keyblade. “What are you doing here?”

The hooded figure is unmoving save for the clenching and unclenching of their fists. There’s a restrained chaotic energy to the way they flex their leather-clad digits, and a knot forms in Isa’s stomach at the sight of it. Then, in one slick movement, the other person extends their arms out to either side of them, fingers spread wide, and their hands are immediately wreathed in disks of spinning fire. The intensity of the blaze grows brighter- almost blinding- then in a flash, the flames have warped and settled into delicate metal weapons, circular in nature, with massive silver spikes protruding from the perimeter.

Before Isa can react, the weapons are being hurled at him with the full force of their wielder, and he has to dive out of the way to keep from being struck down by them. They strike ground and disintegrate into a flash of fire, before appearing instantaneously back in their owner’s outstretched hands. 

Isa recovers quickly, rolling into the dive and back onto his feet, and charges at the assailant poised to strike. He brings Lunar Eclipse over his head and strikes the other’s weapons with all his might; metal strikes metal as the two exchange repeated blows, tangled in a delicate dance for victory against the other. 

He sends a blow of the keyblade to the other’s shoulder, and as metal connects with tissue, Isa can hear the other hiss out a pained noise. The circular metal weapons of the hooded figure disappear in a cloud of smoke, and they stumble back with their now free arm clutching at the sight of impact. Isa narrows his eyes at the other and charges them, prepared to deliver one last blow. But as he draws the keyblade back to strike, the other hurls a fireball towards Isa that hits him square in the gut, sending Lunar Eclipse flying and him sprawling backward. 

“Not bad…” The hooded person seems to almost croon the words as they take a step towards where Isa lies curled on the floor. “Guess the old man wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were a tough nut to crack. Color me shocked.”

Isa looks up from his position on the floor, struggling to catch his breath through the sharp throbbing of his chest. Something… something about that  _ voice _ . It’s distantly familiar, like a dream that you struggle to remember upon waking. Wincing through the exertion, Isa calls the keyblade back to him and uses it to prop himself up and onto his knees. 

“Who..” Isa manages to repeat, his voice strained through labored breathing. 

“Who  _ am I _ ?” The other finishes with a bitter chuckle. Shrugging, they reach up to finally pull the hood from their head, and Isa gasps as brilliant, bright red hair seems to cascade out from beneath it. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, it  _ has _ been a  **long** time.”

Isa takes in the other’s face, scanning every detail and contour of it as the horror and relief of realization crashes upon him. That _face…_ _His_ face… though aged by time and weathered by experience, it still looks exactly as it did those years ago, right down to the purple inverse teardrops Isa would often draw on the boy’s skin as a way to keep the other from crying. It still looks exactly as it did each night in Isa’s dreams- exactly as it did in his mind’s eye when he’d speak to the moon, hoping beyond all hope that the other boy was on the other side somewhere talking back.

“ _ Lea _ .”

Lea’s eyes lock with Isa’s and for the first time, the keyblade wielder notices the singular difference in his old friend’s appearance. Where Lea’s eyes had once been the brightest emerald, the man now standing over Isa has eyes like liquid amber.

“He’d be  _ so flattered _ you remember him.” Lea cocks his head with a sickly grin and breathes out a soft laugh. “Too bad you left him to  _ die _ all those years ago.”

“Wh- I don’t…” Isa blinks blankly at his old friend, unsure as to what Lea is getting at- but before he can glean any clarification, Lea is kicking the keyblade out from underneath Isa, and he has to throw his hands out to keep himself from slamming back against the grass. 

“Name’s  _ Axel _ now,” Lea casts an almost bored look down at the keyblade bearer and taps a finger twice to his temple. “Get it memorized.”

“Lea-”

“ **_Axel_ ** ,” The other man corrects Isa sharply- fire flashing in his eyes- and crosses his arms tightly over his chest with a shake of his head. “Come  _ on _ , you used to be the smart one, Isa. Something like a little name change should be pie for someone like  _ you _ .”

Isa doesn’t rise to Lea’s taunt, instead reaching yet again for Lunar Eclipse. He draws in a breath, ignoring the deep, aching protest in his chest as he does, and slowly climbs to his feet. 

“Lea… Axel… it doesn’t matter to me.” Isa groans against the tight pain in his abdomen and swallows the burning heat that radiates from where the ball of fire had hit him. “All that matters is that you’re here. We can go home now.”

“Home?” Lea echoes hollowly, frowning as the word leaves his mouth. Almost imperceptibly, he winds a hand into a tight fist before letting out another humorless laugh. “Don’t go all soft on me now- pretending you care- it’s not a good look.”

“It’s not an act, Lea. Everything-” Isa swallows the newly formed lump in his throat and uses the keyblade to hobble the short distance between them, setting a warm hand atop Lea’s uninjured shoulder. “I looked for you  _ every _ waking moment of the last eight years, Lea. I  _ never _ gave up.”

“ _ Liar _ !” Lea scowls as he lets out a roar, and his hand shoots out to wrap tightly around Isa’s throat. The fingers curl into yielding flesh and as Lea glares at him, teeth bared, Isa can feel heat begin to rise at their point of contact. “You were off having your little  _ keyblade _ adventure. You didn’t look for me- you didn’t give a  _ damn _ about me! You left me at the mercy of them- let them reduce me to- to-”

Lea’s eyes widen suddenly as he cuts himself off, as if he himself is shocked by the sudden burst of emotion. The hand still gripped at Isa’s throat begins to smolder and smoke, and it’s not until Isa begins to squirm and claw desperately at it that Lea seems to notice. A single heartbeat passes between them, and in the span of that time, Lea’s recovered from his outburst, once again adopting the aloof demeanor he opened with.

“But-  _ heh- _ that’s not important, is it? You’re here for something else entirely. Now, what  _ was _ it he said it was…” Lea murmurs to himself, tapping a finger of his free hand against his chin as he considers before snapping with a grin as the thought comes to him. “Ohh, that’s right; your ‘Mark of Mastery’. A  _ very _ big deal, I hear.”

He finally releases Isa from his iron grip and, with a deep gulp of air, Isa stumbles backward. He opens his mouth to speak but is met only with a hoarse rasp- to which Lea gives a dismissive wave.

“Don’t interrupt, Isa. After all, I came  _ all _ this way to celebrate your big accomplishment. You should at  _ least _ let me give you your present. You’re just gonna  _ die  _ when you see it.”

The sentence has barely left Lea’s mouth before he’s charging Isa again, flinging his spiked weapons in rapid succession at him. Isa manages to deflect most of the shots with his keyblade, but each subsequent hit of metal against metal wears him down and, soon enough, a shot escapes him; Lea sends one of the great metal circles at Isa one last time, and the very tip of a blade slices deep across his leg. Isa falls to his knees, momentarily overcome with pain, and Lea strikes- throwing his entire weight behind the blow against Isa’s keyblade.

“I’m almost disappointed,” Lea smirks through short huffs of breath, his face inches from Isa’s. “They told me you’d be much harder to take down than this. But I guess you’re just a failure at everything, aren't you? Couldn’t save the girl, couldn't save  _ Lea _ , and now?”

An unnatural cracking sound punctuates Lea’s monologue, like ice cracking beneath a great weight. Lea’s flaxen eyes flit briefly down between him and his smirk blooms into a grin. Isa follows Lea’s line of sight to Lunar Eclipse, and can barely contain the gasp that bubbles up inside him at the sight of the keyblade- and the enormous fissure that’s begun to split the blade of it in two.

“Hmm. Can’t even save  _ yourself _ .”

Lea gives one last blow to the keyblade with the opposite of his weapons, and the thing shatters fully; Lunar Eclipse splinters asunder with a crack that seems to reverberate through Isa’s very core. The pieces of his keyblade drop like shards of glass to the floor and Isa feels as though he’s been run through with a knife. He stares wide-eyed at the ground where shards of blue and silver glint in the glow from Lea’s fire, unable to move from the spot he’s kneeling. 

“Giving up already?”

Isa feels the painful grip of Lea’s fingers against his jaw and a moment later he’s being wrenched away from the sight of his slain keyblade and up towards Lea’s gleeful face. Isa can feel himself trying to move, can hear himself screaming internally to fight back, but not a fiber of his being moves from the spot. Chuckling, Lea bends over slightly, so he can speak to Isa in a hushed tone that freezes the blood in the keyblade wielder’s veins.

“Probably for the best, I gotta say. This next part’s going to get a  _ little _ messy.”

The cuts come in two swift motions. 

Lea takes a blade of one of his circular weapons and slashes it across the middle of Isa’s face. The edge of the blade cuts deep into his skin, and Isa’s vision explodes with white-hot pain. He howls out as the metal is dug across his face- deeper and deeper into his flesh- but still, he is unable to move. Blood begins to weep from the wounds and run wild crimson streams down his face, but all Isa can focus on is the bored smirk of Axel’s face as he looks over his handiwork.

“X marks the spot,” Axel almost whispers, the singsong tone to his voice standing in stark contrast to the wild intensity of his eyes. 

He releases his grip on Isa, and the keyblade wielder drops an arm out to weakly hold himself up. His vision is hazy, blurred with tears and blood, but he can just make out the sight of Axel walking backward, bowing, as a swirling mass of darkness wisps into being behind him. The smoky tendrils of the all-too-familiar portal begin to wrap themselves lovingly around Axel and he steps fully into the abyss, leaving Isa alone with his parting words.

“The Organization sends their regards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> This chapter was largely inspired by several pieces on twitter: primarily [this one](https://twitter.com/saixbosom/status/1149275229371293696?s=20), which was the comic that really inspired me to start writing this fic in the first place.
> 
> For extra pain, check out [ this one](https://twitter.com/saixbosom/status/1149721465987559424?s=20) and [this one](https://twitter.com/uultima_exe/status/1149932237955248129?s=20).
> 
> Thanks to both of you for drawing these and aiding in your own pain. <3


	6. vi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the events of Isa's Mark of Mastery.

The portal to darkness closes behind Axel and the fires, no longer leashed by the will of their master, die to smoldering embers. 

All around Isa, the twilight sky seems to burn and darken to a deep purple- an unnatural blackness that is eerily reminiscent of the portal used by Axel only moments ago. Straining, he looks off into the distance, and can see the makings of a brilliant orange orb- still far too dull and close to the horizon to possibly be the sun- begin to swirl against the inky heavens. As the orb seems to pulse- as a living, beating heart- coils of darkness thread from it and seem to only further infect the night sky, drowning what little light remains in black nothingness. 

A sudden jolt passes like a wave through the ground and takes what little strength Isa has left with it, knocking him flat against the earth. He lies there a moment, numb despite everything, and takes a second to collect his strength before rolling onto his back. Searing pain blazes across his face- made worse by the invasion of tears, ash, and dirt into the fresh wounds- and all Isa can do is dumbly touch a filthy hand to the source of it. As he does, the ground begins to quake; a soft, rolling rumble that seems to absorb the very energy from him. 

Minutes pass, and with each passing moment, the shaking of the planet becomes more violent, more unstable. A gust picks up from seemingly nowhere, and debris begins to fly wildly across the landscape. The orange orb, hanging low and heavy in the sky, becomes swirled with the deep black-purple of darkness and as the symphonic destruction of the place transpires, Isa realizes what is happening: the planet is dying. 

Wincing, Isa rasps out a name, and though its bearer has long since been taken from this plane of existence, the singular syllable still provides a childlike comfort to him. He can feel himself fading as the world around him falls to darkness, and as a somber, gloomy haze covers the planet like a blanket, he reaches to his neck to weakly grab at the tattered scarf tied around him. _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Lea_. The thought comes more easily than Isa’s shallow, ragged breathing and, as he closes his eyes with a sigh, Isa gives one last lingering thought to the boy he’s known since birth- the light that’s kept him going all these years, now dimmed and faded to flickering- before falling unconscious. 

* * *

He’s not sure how long he’s out for. 

Isa’s not even sure where he _is_ when he first wakes. His eyes take a moment to focus, vision blurred and obscured by sleep and the bandages that had been applied to his face by some unknown person while he was out but, as he sits up with difficulty and the room comes into full focus, Isa realizes he’s back in his bedchamber in the Tower. _That’s...not possible_ , he thinks hazily, _my keyblade...my glider, how-_

The last thing he remembers is the fire. The death of the world called Prydain, brought on unduly by his own inability to stop the assassin dispatched to send it spiraling into darkness. He remembers the shattering of his keyblade, leaving him stranded and defenseless on a doomed world. He remembers searing pain, carved onto his face with a smile, and he remembers… Lea. Lea, who had been taken in by something called the Organization. Hollowed out and reshaped into something twisted- into something _wrong_ and wholly unlike the boy he’s spent all these years seeking out.

He stops himself, frowning with a shudder, and instead shifts to sitting at the edge of the bed, touching his bare feet to the cool, wooden floor to ground himself. Isa takes a deep breath- or as deep a breath as he can, given his current state- letting his eyes fall closed, and begins to take stock of his body and it’s injuries. His head is pounding- unbearably so- and the slow, steady throbbing of it makes the whole world seem to tremble with each minuscule movement he makes. Isa rolls a shoulder and hisses as sore muscles scream back at him; the battle with Lea- _Axel_ \- had not been kind and even now, some indeterminate time later, Isa still bears the wounds and aches of their clash as if it had only just transpired. He swallows thickly and winces at the tender discomfort in his throat. His entire neck still burns, as if the fire from Axel’s hands were still on him- still searing his flesh into submission as he wriggles helplessly beneath his touch. 

Just then, a small tapping comes from the door to the chamber. Isa snaps from his meditation, cocking his head at the door- a moment later it inches open, revealing a familiar face.

“You’re awake!” Mickey beams at the sight of Isa and scurries into the room proper, a glass of water in hand, and shuts the door softly behind him. 

“A-” Isa rasps out but stops, the dry pain in his throat too much for him to speak. He gratefully accepts the glass as it’s held out to him by the King and sips at it, letting the cold water soothe away some of the discomfort. Clearing his throat, he starts again. “And you’re _here_ , rather than the castle. How _does_ the kingdom get on without it’s King?”

Mickey chuckles sheepishly at the jab, prompting a very faint smile from Isa in return.

“Well they’ve got _Minnie_ , ‘n she does a swell job, but… gosh- we were startin’ to think you might never wake up.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not so easily bested in combat.” 

“Y- yeah, I guess so...” He chuckles softly, taking the cool retort as the small comfort that it’s meant to be, and rocks back and forth on the tips of his toes. “What _happened_ out there, Isa? The Master n’ I were lookin’ on during your exam, but somethin’ happened and we lost contact with you. He sent me off to find you, but when I finally got to ya...well…”

“First, if I might: have you heard of something called the Organization?” Isa poses the question softy, earnestly, but when Mickey shakes his head ‘no’ Isa sighs and carries on. “He- _they_ sent someone to interrupt my exam, though for what reason, I’m unsure. Their assassin caught me off guard. We fought and-”

Another voice cuts into their conversation, finishing Isa’s line of thought. “And as a result, the world you were tasked with investigating was drowned in darkness.” 

Mickey and Isa hadn’t noticed Master Yen Sid enter the chamber, and the two nearly jump out of their skins at the sudden low boom of his voice.

“Master, I-” Isa makes a move to stand, to bow before Yen Sid, but his body protests, and it’s all he can do to hang his head in reverence of the grand mage towering over him. “I’m sorry; I know I’ve failed you... I thought I was ready- thought the Mark would be simple enough. But in my own arrogance… I realize there must still be much for me to learn.”

Isa lets his head hang, preparing himself for the long-winded chastising that is likely to come from Yen Sid. But the Master says nothing. Where Isa expected there would be scolding, there is only silence. Silence so enduring that Isa chances a raising of his eyes to confirm that the other man is still there in the room. His deferential gaze meets the stoney look of his Master, and Isa seems to only shrink further under Yen Sid’s steady stare.

“You were tasked with discovering the source of the heartless that have been plaguing worlds.” Yen Sid speaks as deliberately as always, but both Mickey and Isa can tell that there’s a hesitance in his words where it wouldn’t usually exist. “If what you have recounted to Mickey is indeed true, this Organization may very well be the source which we seek. Moreover, you were not tasked with _stopping_ Prydain’s fall to darkness, you were sent only to observe. All tasks which you performed admirably.”

Mickey perks up as Yen Sid continues, a half-smile creeping onto his face as the realization begins to dawn on him. “Master? Does that mean-?”

“Hm.” Yen Sid nods once and takes a step towards Isa, setting a hand softly upon his shoulder. “Isa… it is my deepest privilege to name you our newest Keyblade Master. The honor could not go to a more deserving young man. These past eight years you have made boundless progress, and we could not be prouder of you, but I believe there is still much left for you to do that will make us proud.”

The words of congratulations bounce and echo around in Isa’s head. A… Keyblade Master? After all he’s done? After all he failed to do on Prydain? It doesn’t seem right, and yet… there is no insincerity in Yen Sid’s voice, no dishonesty shadowing his face. This is real.

Isa takes a moment to compose himself and struggles to his feet. The aching tenderness of his muscles still protests, but the renewed vigor of his heart is enough to quell the discontent.

“Master, if I might? ...what happens now? Where do we go from here, knowing as little as we do? Where do _I_ go from here?”

Yen Sid brings a hand up to absently stroke his great beard as he considers. ”We must remain vigilant in the ever-present fight against darkness. Where the fight will take you, I cannot yet say with certainty. It remains, ultimately, your decision.”

“I see.” Isa nods, turning away from the wizard to face the small window of the chamber. With a soft sigh, he clenches a fist. “In which case… with your blessing, I’d like to go after Lea. On Prydain, I- He- The Organization _has him._ He’s connected to all this somehow, and I intend to find out how.”

“I see.” If the revelation of Lea’s involvement in the Organization’s activity comes as a shock to the Master, Yen Sid’s eyes do not betray him. He simply nods and gestures towards Isa’s bed. “I would advise foremost that you rest, at least until your body has healed considerably. You did not arrive back here unscathed, and I fear a Dive would be too much strain for your heart to take.”

“A Dive?” Isa echoes, and does as he’s bid, sitting back on the bed with a wince. He’d only heard of a Dive into the Heart in passing and isn’t exactly sure what the act entails.

“Yes. Your keyblade was damaged beyond repair in your clash with the Organization. You will need to summon a new one if you intend to venture off alone. Rest now, Isa, and when your strength has returned, we will begin.”

* * *

A week has passed, and Isa now sits cross-legged on the floor in a small room of the Tower. His body is still mending, still aching- but Isa was tired of waiting, and had respectively insisted that the Master assist him with his Dive as soon as humanly possible. 

The room is dark, save for a small collection of candles burning in the center of the circular chamber. Thick, perfumed air swirls all around Isa, and the heavy scent of rosemary clings to him like a child to it’s mother. Standing opposite him, on the other side of the room, is Yen Sid who’s low, intoning voice has been leading Isa’s mediation for the better part of the last ten minutes. 

“....in and out... Let your breath come as waves wash upon the shore. Retain an awareness of yourself; notice the tension falling from your shoulders with each exhale, how each inhale brings renewed life to your body. Let all thoughts of the outside world fall from perception.”

As the Master continues on, Isa can feel himself fading from the outside world. A gentle falling sensation overtakes him, like the feeling of falling into a peaceful slumber. As he falls, the scent of rosemary gives way to the faint smell of sea-salt, and in his mind’s eye, a dim glow blazes into existence. Deep, saturated reds, oranges, yellows- all surround Isa as he falls; a sunset of sorts, that meets the pink and blue hues of twilight on the horizon of his heart’s landscape.

He can still hear Yen Sid speaking, though now his voice sounds muted- as if the Master were much further away.

“Concentrate on your heart; bask in the light of it. Ask yourself, what does it desire?”

_Strength_. 

The thought passes through Isa as his feet touch solid ground. In his mind’s eye, a light shines down upon him, and the ground on which he stands is illuminated. A brilliant stained-glass mosaic serves as the floor to his heart station, and Isa can see a depiction of himself, bordered by images of the moon and her phases.

“Strength for what?” The Master’s voice questions him from far away.

Isa scans the ground, taking in each minuscule detail of the images that surround his visage like a halo, and eventually, his eyes fall to the other person depicted in the glass. _Lea_ , as the boy looked when Isa last saw him, is painted in stained-glass to Isa’s left; though the image is cracked, fractured as a broken mirror, and wisps of black smoke seem to seep from the cracks in the picture. Isa frowns, stooping to touch a hand to the fissure. 

_Strength. To protect… those that matter most to me. Strength to bring them_ **_home_ ** _._

“Strength borne of love for another is pure in its intentions; but are you able to bear the weight of that responsibility?”

_Yes_.

The smoke seeping from the cracks in the glass begins to bluster and billow, and before Isa can react, thick plumes of smoke are shooting up from beneath him. Instinctively, Isa raises his arm, reaching out to call his keyblade to him. 

“You feel it. There, in your heart. Call it to you.”

He closes his fingers around _something_ and all at once his eyes fly open, pulling him from his meditative state. Isa blinks a moment, grounding himself back in reality, before noticing his still outstretched arm. There in his grasp, glinting in the low light of the room, lies a massive keyblade. 

Isa turns it over in his hands, taking in every detail; the way the blade of it- a deep midnight blue in color- glimmers like cracked opal in the light, the sunburst of orange and red where the blade meets the teeth, and the way that- inexplicably- it feels as if the blade has always been with him, just waiting to be called to Isa’s side.

“A keyblade to serve you well.” Master Yen Sid, steps towards Isa, nodding as he too takes in the sight of the newly formed blade. “What name does it bear?”

Isa responds with no hesitation, certain in his answer, despite being unsure of exactly how he knows it.

“Solemn Vow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Dive to the Heart' sequence here was heavily inspired by [illia_tibolt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/illia_tibolt/pseuds/illia_tibolt)'s [Sparks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016103), which is set in the Master Isa au, but further down the line. I cannot recommend this enough. Please read it.
> 
> Also for some great references for Isa's keyblades in the story, please check out twitter user uultima_exe's [illustrations](https://twitter.com/uultima_exe/status/1152712715519090695?s=20) of what I had in mind.


	7. vii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where does he go from here?

Isa grips Solemn Vow tightly in his hand as he makes his approach to the castle. As he walks the worn dirt path, lit dimly by faded moonlight, a thick fog begins to swirl around his feet- hugging itself around him and seeming to almost beckon him closer to the large building. 

He pauses a moment, taking the time to frown at the castle itself and suppress the shiver that has been threatening to run down his spine since he arrived on this world. The worlds within the Realm Between- Master Yen Sid’s Tower, Traverse Town, Twilight Town, and now, here- were not Isa’s favorites; there was something about the liminal aura of the worlds that was deeply unnerving to him. Even now, after the ten years that he’s lived between the Tower and Twilight Town, Isa still finds himself unsettled if he stares up at the sky for too long; like the stars, the void, and the nothingness above him was always watching him- judging him- though for what exactly, he could never put a finger on.

Reaching up to absently grip the scarf tied around his neck, Isa sighs heavily. It’s been  _ months _ since his last solid lead on Lea’s location- and even longer since their clash on Prydain- and Isa was beginning to wonder if this whole thing really  _ was _ nothing more than a wild goose chase. For  _ two years _ , all he’s had to go on is scraps of information: the black cloak worn by Lea, the group he’d only off-handedly referred to as “the Organization”, the way fire itself seemed to heed Lea’s beck and call, and his use of the same inky portal that had separated them all those years ago. The castle he now stands before is the latest of his farfetched clues as to the whereabouts of his best friend. Word had caught him, back at his new home base in Twilight Town, that a mysterious group of black cloak-clad people had recently been seen in and around the castle and- though Isa had no way to verify the authenticity of the claims- it had been enough of a clue to send him on his way. 

Looking at the place now, it surely  _ seems  _ like somewhere that a group that calls themselves “the Organization” would reside. Crooked towers with jagged spires protrude from all angles of the castle’s dark stone exterior and a great window at the heart of it is lined with wrought-iron bars that seem to almost mimic a gaping mouth. The sinister air about the place is a compliment to its absurd architecture; thick fog covers the castle like a shawl and the moonlight above it shines a glow upon the place that casts long, looming shadows across the grounds. If Isa were going to pick  _ any  _ place for the Organization to call their base, it would surely be this.

Isa draws another slow breath to center his mind, but as he moves to continue on the path towards the castle, something-  _ someone-  _ catches the corner of his eye. This place was meant to be deserted, save for the denizens of the castle, so the fact that someone has managed to sneak up on him out here in the open is an immediate cause for concern. In one smooth motion, Isa whips around to face his unwelcome company, keyblade at the ready and poised to strike if necessary.

“That is a very fine weapon.” His newfound companion speaks plainly, no air of concern to his tone at all. If the sudden about-face from Isa startles the stranger, he makes no indication of it, opting only to calmly fold his hands behind his back before resuming. “They are a rare sight these days, keyblades. Though I wonder if perhaps it is not a mere coincidence that yours is the  _ third _ one to grace this world this day.”

“The third?” Isa echoes, confusion seeping through his defensive facade. 

There were so few wielders still left in the realms- and of the three mentioned, Isa is sure King Mickey is included among them. It’s been several years since last they spoke, but it wouldn’t surprise the keyblade master to learn that the King was following the same clues as him. But… that still leaves a third, unknown wielder. The only other wielders Isa can think of are the students of Master Eraqus- but they remained either lost, hidden away, or trapped in the Realm of Darkness- there was no way the third was any of them.

Isa’s brow furrows as he peers at the other man, searching for any clues as to his identity. His clothes are ornate, but give nothing away- a long, deep crimson cloak hangs loosely from his shoulders, encircling the tailored black robes and casting them in further darkness. Strips of the same blood-red cloth as his cloak bind and obscure most of his face, and what little of it remains visible is obscured by the cover of night. He’s not with the Organization, of this much Isa is- for some reason- nearly certain, but there is something about the man that sets Isa on edge, and so he grips Solemn Vow a little tighter.

“Do not concern yourself with what now slumbers within the Castle,” the other man continues on, ignoring the passive inquiry from Isa, and looks off into the distance, towards the castle. “There lies nothing in there of use for you now.”

“And how  _ exactly _ is it that you know what is of use to me?”

“You and I share a common enemy: the Organization. Do we not?” Isa’s eyes widen and the other man chuckles dryly, shaking his head as he begins to close the distance between them. “I have been to the castle. The members of the Organization which once infested the place have been wiped from this plane of existence. They are no more.”

The pit in Isa’s stomach drops, and the blood in his veins seems to turn to ice where he stands. No more… Wiped from this plane of existence… His breathing hitches and the only thing Isa can bring himself to think of is Lea. Gone. Dead. The iron grip on his keyblade falters, and the giant thing slips from his hand and plummets towards the ground, where it dematerializes before it connects with the earth. 

“I-” Isa starts, before pausing to clear the crack in his voice away. “I was looking for one of them- very tall, with red hair. Is he…”

“I could not say.“ The other man tilts his head- slightly, but enough so that Isa can see the wary look he’s fixed him with. “There are members which still prevail-  _ dogs _ , which need to be put down. I would wager the Nobody you seek would be among them, was he not among those who perished in the castle.“

Isa winces internally at the emphasis put on the insult but swallows his distaste for it in favor of pressing the man for more information. “Nobody?”

“Yes.” The other laughs, cold and cruel. “Empty shells that retain the memories of when they were human. They are what’s left when a heart gives in to the darkness within it.”

When a heart gives in to darkness. 

Several images flash in Isa’s memory then; long silver hair and a keyblade- black as the night sky. The way Xehanort had brandished the thing at the young boys while speaking in riddles of strong hearts and the science of them. The way he had thrust the great key at them, fully content to make the two his latest guinea pigs. Then, the way Isa’s keyblade had come to him when he’d needed it most. The way the black portal had come and whisked him, and him alone, away to another world. The last pleading, desperate look from Lea as the portal closed around Isa, leaving the redhead to the mercy of the grown man. 

Axel’s words slither into Isa’s head, replacing the memories of Xehanort. 

_ Too bad you left him to  _ **_die_ ** _ all those years ago…. _

_ you left me at the mercy of them, let them reduce me to- _

He was right. About everything. Isa had left Lea alone to fend off the darkness, and Lea had been given no choice but to be consumed by it, to become one with it. The realization twists Isa’s stomach, and he can feel bile begin to rise in his throat. 

“I need to find them- the Organization.” Isa does nothing to disguise the wild desperation in his voice as he presses the stranger for information. “ _ Please _ .”

The other man pauses for a moment, perhaps considering, before moving one of the arms behind his back so that he can hold something out to Isa. A beat passes between them and Isa reaches out to take what appears to be a mass of black fabric. Holding it up to the moonlight, he gasps softly. In the silver light of the moon, metal beadwork and zippers shine brilliantly, and the full form of the cloak- identical to Lea’s- reveals itself to him. 

“I cannot say for certain where they reside for, even now, they elude me.” The other man turns finally from Isa and begins to walk away from him, down the dirt path and away from the castle. Slinging the cloak over his shoulder, Isa jogs after the other man. “They have been spotted on various worlds, for various reasons, and never stay in one location for long. But if you learn to move as they do- to adopt the shadows as your own- then perhaps they will be easier to track down.”

“You mean for me to believe that one coat can do that?”

“If you are seeking one of the Organization, then you know the power their members wield. Likewise, if you’ve encountered one of these nobodies while brandishing that blade of yours, they are likely looking for you as well. The coat will shield you from their prying eyes, but allow you access to the same dark corridors which they use to pass between worlds.”

Isa comes to a gradual stop, frowning deeply as the other man’s winding explanation comes to a close. 

“If this cloak is as powerful as you say, why give it to me? What could you possibly gain from giving an item like this to a stranger?”

The other man chuckles darkly again, not bothering to break his gait down the path. In the near distance, a lightning storm rolls into existence, and the illumination from its flashes lengthen the shadows around the scene into long, stretched out wraiths of darkness.

“What you and I seek are not so different from each other,” he calls out as he crosses over the peak of a hill and begins to descend it, disappearing slowly into the horizon. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

* * *

Back in Twilight Town, not even an hour later, Isa dangles his feet over the edge of the roof of the clocktower. 

The coat- which he had donned shortly after his mystery ally had disappeared- clings to his person, wrapping itself snugly around his body like it was tailored especially for him. It feels wrong somehow, like he’s stepping into the skin of another, more sinister version of himself, but as he lifts the hood up and over his head, obscuring his features from outside view, Isa has to admit that perhaps the thing has its merits. With a coat born from Darkness, Isa would have access to the Dark Corridors used by the Organization and- though the mere thought of willingly adopting the same avenue of transportation that had separated him and Lea all those years ago terrifies him to the core- he knows his glider and the Lanes Between are conspicuous and their reach limited.

With a frown, Isa stares out towards the horizon, absently fiddling with the stick of an ice cream he’s only just finished. It’s been ages since he last had one- ages since Lea had last bought him one- but seeing them being sold today, of all days… it had felt only right to buy one on his way to the clocktower. He glances down, running a thumb over the faded “WINNER” printed on the sticky wood, and sighs. 

_ Wiped from this plane of existence _ .

The words of the other man back at Castle Oblivion echo and weigh heavily on his heart. If Lea had been there at the castle, then... there would be nothing left of him, as the other man had said. But Isa would  _ know _ , wouldn’t he? He would  _ know  _ if something had happened to Lea. Just like all this time, he  _ knew  _ Lea was still out there, waiting for Isa to find him. Their hearts were connected, as Master Yen Sid had once said, and their eternal bond what was gave Isa the strength to keep going- to keep searching. There is no doubt in his mind that Lea is still alive, but tracking him down remains a monumental task that he really has no idea how to accomplish. The most he can do right now is focus on finding the Organization.

Far beneath him, on the ground by the station entrance, something black catches Isa’s eye. 

Purple-black tendrils bleed into the twilight air from nothing, swirling together until they form the- now entirely too familiar- sight of a Dark Corridor. Isa’s breathing catches in his throat and he cranes his neck to get a better view of the figure emerging from it. Could it really be this easy? Was the Organization really  _ so  _ bold that they would appear to him, in broad daylight no less? It has to be a trap.

He watches with intense scrutiny, observing the Organization’s member as they close the portal behind them and take off down the stone path, leading away from the station. Isa scrambles to his feet, panic quickly setting in as he watches the Organization jog away. It would take too long to climb down the tower- by the time he reaches the floor, his only hope at finding the Organization will have vanished right under his nose. But there was no other way to-

_ The coat will shield you from their prying eyes, but allow you access to the same dark corridors which they use to pass between worlds. _

Isa’s heart skips a beat. 

He could take a Corridor, get to his destination infinitely faster but...how? He holds his arms out in front of him, squinting at the sleeves of the coat as he balls his hands into tight fists.  _ Please… _ he thinks,  _ please, I can’t lose this _ . 

And, almost as if the coat can hear his thoughts, a portal opens before him- dark, sinister, and inviting. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the sheer anxiety of taking a portal- already his only tie to the Organization is rounding a corner out of view- and so, with a deep breath, he steps into the darkness. 

Ice cold embraces him as black floods his field of vision. His breath freezes in his lungs and each beat of his heart seems slowed to a fraction of its normal rate. Isa takes a step forward and can’t help but be overcome by the simultaneous sensations of falling and walking underwater. It’s almost too much to bear- each breath feels like a monumental task but, as soon as the feeling takes hold, it’s over. Isa is exiting the portal and emerging unharmed on the ground floor by the station.

He takes off at full speed, running after the Organization’s member. 

Isa speeds through the town, not caring for the lack of subtly in the way he weaves through alleys and around the tram. Townspeople stop and stare as he gives chase, but Isa hardly notices: all he cares about is apprehending the other cloaked person. They’re around here somewhere- they  _ have  _ to be. He takes a sharp left and finds himself suddenly in an alcove. 

Brick buildings form walls all around him, and there are rows of benches lined before a giant tarp canvas that’s been affixed to the wall furthest from him. And there, with their back to him, stands the Organization member.

“You’re not with the Organization,” the other person calls out to Isa in a voice much, much younger than he’s expecting. It catches him so off guard that he takes a step back, his shock that the Organization would still stoop to taking in  _ children _ briefly overriding his need to question the boy. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

Isa throws his hands up defensively, to show the child he’s no threat but, before he can speak, the boy turns, adopting a battle stance.

“You’re the imposter they’re all talking about. The one who was at Castle Oblivion…” He throws his right hand out beside him and closes his fist around a bright flare of light. His weapon settles into its shape and-

“A keyblade?” Isa breathes the word out in amazement, his eyes glued to the brilliant yet simple design of the boy’s blade. 

“How do you know about the keyblade?” The boy barks the question at Isa and draws his keyblade up to rush him. He takes a single step forward, ready to dart at Isa, but in one fluid movement, the Keyblade Master has summoned Solemn Vow to his side, and he holds it in a defensive stance before him.

He can hear the sharp intake of breath as the boy gasps, faltering in his approach, and watches as the grip on the child’s blade goes limp, letting the key fall and dissipate into light before it hits the ground. The boy reaches up to tear his hood from his head and, for the first time, Isa can see exactly how young he is. 

A child, blond and blue-eyed, blinks at him, awe-struck. He can’t be more than maybe fifteen or so- and the thought that the keyblade would choose another so young twists Isa’s stomach in tight knots. Tentatively, Isa dismisses his keyblade and takes a step towards the boy, but the child recoils- something like anxious fear in his eyes. 

“It’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you.” Isa’s tone is soothing as he takes another step forward and, this time, the boy does not move. “Just… tell me your name.”

He frowns at the ground as if considering. Isa can see the thoughts racing through his brain, can see him mentally tabulating the pros and cons of revealing his name to a perfect stranger, but then-

  
“... _ Roxas _ . My name is Roxas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Kait, who really helped me work through the pacing of this chapter. I had been stuck on it for A While and they helped immensely! <3
> 
> On that note: don't expect anything new right away, I'm working in three zines at the moment and that takes precedent. :') The next chapter will be fun though, I _promise_.


	8. viii. secret reports: saix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number Seven, _Saix_ , joins the Organization at last.

“Excellent tidings, friends.”

Xemnas’s voice- deep, rich, and warm- fills the expansive hall of the Round Room. The throne he sits upon, carved of flawless white stone, towers over twelve other identical seats, which stand in varying heights in a clockwork circle. Seated atop ten of the remaining seats around the room are his subordinates, those that make up the numbers of Organization XIII. Xemnas pauses to glance around the room, fiery amber eyes meeting each of his comrades before he continues.

“We gather today for a momentous occasion. For at long last, another has been found worthy to wear the cloak.”

Xemnas gestures with a regal fluidity to the raised platform far beneath him, and to the hooded figure that stands in silent wait. Eleven sets of eyes all train on the newest addition to their ranks, each with varying levels of interest. 

“Before you stands the key to our liberation. It is the very cornerstone on which our entire machinations hinge. A facsimile of one so pure, that the Light plucked him from our clutches when we were but a mere whisper of an assembly.”

Around the room, several of the Organization’s members perk up, a sort of distant interest spreading around the hall as the Superior drones on.

“What was missing has now been reclaimed. Number Seven- _Saix_ \- The Twilight’s Chosen.”

At the acknowledgment of his name, the hooded figure- who had been until now standing with a stark stillness- reaches to remove the hood obscuring his face and brushes the cascade of brilliant blue hair that tumbles out from beneath it aside as the hood falls, useless, from his grasp.

Saix can hear the soft startled intake of breath and intrigued murmuring from the others as he looks up to meet the Superior’s eyes.

“When did you mean to tell us we’ve gained access to the Keyblade Master’s nobody?” From behind Saix, an incredulous voice poses the question. Saix glances over his shoulder, and notes the bored way the other man seems to wait for an answer- observes the smooth, dexterous way he flips the cards in his hands as he frowns.

_That would be Luxord, Number Ten_ , Saix repeats to himself. He’d only just learned the names of the others in the Organization mere hours ago, and this was the first chance he’s had to pair names with voices and faces.

“The being you see before you is neither Nobody nor Other,” Xemnas replies, a distant smile on his face as he observes Saix. “It is something else entirely, and yet it remains the perfect mirror of that which it is meant to replace.”

“What is it then, Xemnas?” _Number Three, Xaldin_. “The cryptic allusions do none of us any favors if this is as considerable a development as you say.”

“It’s the latest of my prototypes.” _Number Four, Vexen_. The blond man, one of the few Saix has already met with, sniffs and draws himself to his full height in his seat, pride nearly oozing off him as he speaks. “A _replica_ , meant to mimic all manner of humanity; made not from the flesh and blood of the Other, but of data from the heart. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost swear we had the Keyblade Master himself.”

“So he’s not like. A _real_ person?” _Demyx, Number Nine_ , asks as he slides further down in his chair, confusion circling him as he cocks his head.

“Saix is as _real_ as any one of us is.” _Zexion, Number Six_ , and another of the Organization which Saix has been previously presented to, responds. “That is to say, he exists in the same remaining vestiges of humanity that we do. As the Superior said: neither Nobody nor Other; neither living nor dead.”

“So….not real then.” Demyx frowns and scratches his head in confusion. “Uh, thanks Zex.”

“Hey, now. Dollface here might not be human, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hear ya.” _Xigbar, Number Two_ , leans lazily against the armrest of his seat and points down to Saix, a mimicry of amusement written on his scarred face. “And since he ain’t a proper nobody, I bet he’s feeling all kindsa ways right now- Aren’tcha?”

Saix doesn’t respond, instead averting his eyes from Xigbar’s gaze, which prompts a laugh from the older man.

“So if this replica prototype is made of data,” _Marluxia, Number Eleven_ , wonders aloud with something like a sinister curiosity gleaming in his blue eyes. “Wherever did we find such valuable information?” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” _Larxene, Number Twelve_ , agrees, tossing her hair disinterestedly as she speaks to the room. “It’s not like we have access to the whatever master’s heart. So who’s did we use?”

“... **mine**.” Lea, answers Larxene sharply, speaking for the first time since entering the hall, and Saix turns to look up at him. 

They’d met only hours earlier- Zexion had taken it upon himself to warn Lea, as it were, about the newest development in Xemnas’s plan for Kingdom Hearts- and brought the redhead to the labs that morning in an attempt to mitigate whatever damage would be done upon springing the news on the assassin. Lea had not taken the news of Saix’s “birth” well and, if the thick plumes of smoke that have begun to filter into the bright round room are any indication, the hours since their initial meeting have not softened Lea to the idea of Saix’s existence. 

“Axel and the keyblade master share an immutable bond,” Xemnas continues, either overlooking or ignorant of Lea’s fuming, “And through that bond, and the memories of the Other that have been seared into Axel’s heart, Vexen was able to produce the replica you see here. With the Master’s keyblade at our disposal, Kingdom Hearts is no longer but a dream. Soon, it will be our reality.”

* * *

He can’t stand the way they speak of him as if he isn’t in the room. 

A lot of that has been going on lately, often enough that Saix feels as though he should be used to the feeling. The feeling of being spoken of as a broken toy, the feeling of being looked at with such _disdain_ that he is _certain_ , had he a heart, he would wither on the spot. 

Saix sits, scowling at the open hands lying in his lap, and tries to tune out the pair of voices murmuring to each other on the other side of the room of the lab. Pretends to ignore the name- his own and yet, not the one that belongs to him- being thrown around like an accusation. _Isa_ could wield the keyblade, so why could _Saix_ not? With a disgusted growl, he clenches his fists tightly and flits his eyes up towards the duo still speaking in hushed tones, as if he can’t hear them.

“So is it **defective**?” Axel leans against a desk, boredom set into his features as he inspects the tips of his gloves. 

He had been the one to retrieve Saix after his last mission, when the replica had been overwhelmed by a particularly tough heartless; it should have been an easy enough task for one chosen by the keyblade, but… it’s been two weeks since his presentation to the Organization, and Saix has yet to call the thing to his side.

“No, he’s working as intended.” Zexion frowns, reaching for a nearby text and flipping it open to an earmarked page. His eyebrows knit together as he consults the pages, and Saix can practically see the metaphorical cogs turning in his brain as he scans the information. 

“You screwed up then,” Axel offers, a chilling half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lolls his head lazily to the side. “Happens to the best of us. ‘Course- you have to admit, it is pretty funny that this is where you tripped up. Xemnas can’t be happy about that.”

Zexion ignores the obvious bait from Axel, snapping the book shut and continuing on as if the taller of the two had remained silent. 

“The best I can surmise is: since he was created not from a heart’s true data, but rather from the _memories_ within you, we’ve an incomplete profile of the keyblade master.” Zexion looks up finally, to meet Axel’s eyes. “If we had Isa- the _real_ Isa- he should, for all intents and purposes, be able to provide the data that is missing from the replica.”

And as the word ‘replica’ comes from Zexion, he offers the briefest of glances to Saix, observing him in the clinical way Zexion was wont to do. He looks almost through Saix, as if the replica was merely an insentient object- a failed experiment meant only to be figured out and fixed.

_Aren’t I?_ The thought crosses his mind bitterly as Saix meets Zexion’s eyes. _The other man looks away suddenly as if he’s embarrassed to have been caught staring. The Superior… Lea… all the others… It's been made explicit to me since my inception that my only purpose in this life is to use the keyblade to complete Kingdom Hearts. If I am unable to perform my singular responsibility… what need is there for me?_

“So what do we do with **that**?” Axel, as if privy to Saix’s thoughts, jerks his head lazily in Saix’s direction. “Vex can’t be too happy about throwing it in the trash. Seems like a waste of materials.”

“No, he’ll be allowed to remain in a functioning state so that Vexen and I can continue to study him. Besides, the Superior has other plans for the replica.” Zexion shrugs noncommittally and summons a Dark Corridor behind him. “Saix will be regulated to assigning missions, looking over the castle, and the such. I suspect Xemnas means to lessen the responsibilities atop yours and Xigbar’s shoulders.”

Zexion steps fully into the Corridor and once the thing has bled out of existence and the two have been left alone, Axel lets out a low whistle, turning finally to face Saix.

“Secretary work. That’s gotta hurt.”

Saix doesn’t meet Axel’s eyes, only allows the gravity of Axel’s golden gaze to settle heavily on his shoulders as he measures the weight of Zexion’s words. Axel saunters across the room towards him, and Saix can _feel_ the sickly grin on the nobody’s face as he comes to a halt mere feet before where he’s seated. 

“All that hard work and all Vexen managed to make was an expensive paperweight.”

Axel wants a rise from Saix, an outburst from the replica- something to twist and temper into a knife that he can sink deep into Saix’s psyche when it best suits Axel’s own agenda. But there are still some things that Saix is unwilling to oblige his former best friend, and so he sits in silence, scowling at the ground.

A moment passes between them, and the tension is palpable as Axel waits for Saix’s retort. But when it becomes evident that the barb isn’t coming, Axel sets his hands on his hips and leans over, so that he’s nearly face to face with Saix, and when he speaks, his voice is grave and low.

“See- I _told_ you you’d never be him.”

* * *

For nearly 365 days, Saix remains the ghost of the Organization. A member in name only, Xemnas had graciously allowed Saix- _The Twilight’s Chosen_ , to keep his rank and title- though for what reason neither Saix nor the rest of the Organization could surmise. Zexion had said once, in passing, that the Superior had other plans for the replica, but… so far there was no evidence to support the statement as anything other than speculation.

Today they meet Where Nothing Gathers. 

Atop his great stone seat, positioned lowest of all twelve of them, Saix flexes his hands anxiously. There had been whispers as of late- hushed gossip swapped between the others in the Grey Room- that another would soon be joining their ranks. He had dismissed the buzz as nothing more than idle fancy but, as he stares coldly down at the stone dais in the center of the room, and at the unfamiliar cloaked figure standing there, unmoving, he can see that the rumors had indeed been correct.

Peering closer, Saix can see that their newest comrade is nothing but a **child** \- at least ten years his- or rather _Isa’s_ \- junior. The boy’s face is vacant and he stares off into nothingness, even as the Superior’s voice fills the great hall once more.

“Gentlemen. At long last, our eagerly awaited thirteenth member has joined us.” Xemnas nods once, his amber eyes shining with the memories of pride, and pauses before gesturing an open hand towards their newest member. “We welcome the one _truly_ chosen by the keyblade. Number 13, Roxas.”

And though the attention should be on the boy- on Roxas, Saix can feel many sets of eyes suddenly turning to him. He pretends not to notice, scowling down his nose at the child, but the weight of the Organization’s collective gaze and hushed murmuring is crushing to the point where he finds it difficult to breathe, and he is nearly certain he’ll faint on the spot. 

“Are we certain this one will fare better than our last botched attempt at controlling the keyblade?” Xaldin crosses his arms, and though his tone is even- bordering on apathetic, there is a distant fire in his eyes that betrays his nonchalance. “Can we _afford_ another setback?”

Xemnas takes the question in stride, pausing as he pretends to consider the question fully- as if he doesn't already have the answer at the ready.

“Saix was merely a replica, a toy pieced together from fragmented memories of one whose heart held close ties to the Keyblade Master. The data we collected was not a complete profile, and therefore, produced an imperfect replica.”

“Yes,” Marluxia cuts into the Superior’s clarification with a bored chuckle. “We have _Axel_ to thank for that screw-up, don’t we? It was _your_ heart that Vexen pulled the data from initially, wasn’t it?”

Axel doesn’t immediately respond, instead only digs his fingers into the armrest of his seat in a half-hearted attempt to quell the flames that have begun to lick the column base of Marluxia’s seat. The two lock eyes for a moment and Marluxia’s deep blue gaze practically begs Axel to summon forth a fire proper- to lose control long enough to irrevocably cross the Organization, but- as is suspiciously often the case, Xemnas steps in. 

“Roxas is no such beast. He is the nobody of the Hero we have been keeping tabs on; the shadow of nothingness cast off one born into the Realm of Light. The keyblade is as much a part of him as his other. _**He** _will not fail to produce the keyblade.” He disperses the tension so fluidly that one not familiar with his tactics might have missed the redirection entirely. “ _Axel_ , watch him. Guide him in the ways of the Organization, so that we may, at last, have our perfect key.”

At his name, the assassin snaps to attention, and the flames beneath Marluxia disappear into heavy wisps of smoke. Axel heaves a heavy, almost human sigh, and crosses his arms dramatically. 

“Aw, you’re making _me_ the kid’s babysitter?”

“Hm, precisely. Show him all he needs to know, and when the time is right, release him. Only then will Kingdom Hearts finally be revealed to us.”

There’s an implied dismissal to Xemnas’s words, and as he grows silent, the rest of the Organization summons Corridors to take their leave. One by one, they dissipate, until only Saix is left alone with the Superior and Xigbar. 

“Sir, if I may?” Xemnas quirks a brow at Saix, silent permission to continue. ”Are you certain that Axel is the one best tasked with mentoring the boy? He has a… history that I feel is not best ignored-”

“Axel is among the few I trust to deal with traitors- hence his role as the Organization’s assassin. Should worst come to worst, I would have Axel there to sever the connection between Roxas and the   
Organization as smoothly and quickly as possible. We do not need two useless wielders.”

“‘Sides,” Xigbar interjects, stretching his limbs stiffly. “Maybe hanging out with the kiddo will soften some of those edges up. We all know he could use it. Red’s a powder keg under pressure and all this shit with ‘ _Master Isa_ ’ ‘s like tossing a lit match in. We’re not careful and little Axel’s liable to explode.”

Xemnas only fixes Saix with a very knowing stare as Xigbar rambles on, waiting only until the Freeshooter is finished speaking to smirk at the replica, before summoning a corridor and exiting the hall.

* * *

Six days later they reconvene Where Nothing Gathers. 

The thirteen of them gather- one by one- into the assembly hall, and each takes their assigned seat in the perfect circle. Saix is already seated, anxiously and silently waiting for the stragglers of the Organization to join them, when _they_ come strolling together through a Dark Corridor.

Roxas trails Axel as they exit the dark portal, laughing as Lea gesticulates wildly through some story he’s regaling the boy with. Axel grins- a lazy lopsided smile- as Roxas responds with something and Saix can feel the color drain from his face. 

The boy has been Axel’s assignment for less than a week, but already Saix can see the trappings of friendship begin to seep and stain its way into Axel’s not-heart. It was impossible- for two nobodies like themselves- to form true bonds such as friendship and yet, as Saix watches the way _Lea_ claps a hand to Roxas’s back with a laugh- a _real_ laugh- he knows that’s exactly what has begun to happen. 

It turns his stomach.

“Today is a momentous day.”

Saix hadn’t even noticed the Superior had joined them, and the sudden boom of his voice through the hall gives the replica a start. Frowning, Saix turns his attention to the grand, white dais below him, where a hooded figure has appeared. He peers curiously at them, but their hood is drawn close to their face, obscuring their features. Like Roxas, this mysterious person is approximately the size of a child, but staring at them leaves Saix with a vague and lingering sense of deja vu.

“A new comrade has been chosen to wear the cloak.” And though Xemnas announces the news with little grandeur, it creates a ripple of whispers and confused murmuring through several members of the assemblage. “Number Fourteen joins us. Let us welcome one of the keyblade’s chosen.”

Keyblade’s chosen? _Another_? 

The realization begins to slowly dawn on him, and an unpleasant sinking feeling overtakes Saix. Again, like Roxas, this new member was likely meant to compensate for _his_ failure as the Organization’s chosen keyblade wielder. They likely did not need a duplicate keyblade- this was just another needling reminder of his deficiency, another searing knife to the heart. 

He looks wildly around the room to the other members of the Organization, curious to see if they too have made the connection, but stops short as he notices a particular set of glimmering golden eyes on him. Axel arches an eyebrow as Saix meets his gaze and offers a sickly smirk to the replica.

Thin smoke begins to swirl around Saix’s head, wispy threads curling along the curve of his face- sentient as if each delicate strand was the touch of a lover. He closes his eyes and leans into the feeling of smoke on his face- heedless of the fact that one by one, the rest have begun to trickle out of the room- leaving just him and Axel alone. 

“So why’re we _really_ keeping you around?” Axel calls out to him from across the room and Saix’s eyes snap open as the smoke kissing his jawline thickens angrily around his head and begins to suffocate him. Axel waves a bored hand as he conducts the smoke around Saix’s head, apathy lighting his features as Saix begins to choke. “You have any idea? ‘Cause Xemnas won’t tell _me_. Can’t be because the Castle is in need of a pretty boy secretary- let's be honest here, a _dusk_ could do your job.”

Axel leans forward in his seat and he clenches a fist tightly. The smoke clears as quickly as it had thickened and, as Saix sputters- gasping for fresh air- the other man shrugs. 

“I guess it doesn’t _really_ matter. In the end, you’re just a broken toy. If Xemnas wants to keep garbage around past its expiration date, that’s on him.”

A swirling Dark Corridor envelopes Axel, and he disappears without another word.

* * *

In the time since Number Fourteen- Xion- as it has been named, joined the Organization, it has already proven itself as reliable a wielder as Roxas. Together, they already have released countless hearts, and now the Organization’s perfect Kingdom Hearts was near full to bursting. It was something worth celebrating, and yet...

Saix can’t bring himself to swallow the sheer disgust he feels as he looks upon the puppet’s blank face. It comes to him, day after day, for its missions and each day a not insignificant part of him wonders if this will be the day it fails- if this will be the day that it breaks down, as surely as he had, if this would be the day-

“Hey Replisa, why the long face?”

Xigbar’s voice is suddenly in his ear- shaking Saix from his musings- and the Freeshooter’s arm is draping lazily around the replica’s shoulders. Saix blinks blankly at the other man, confusion etched in his brow at the newfound nickname, and Xigbar barks a laugh, patting his free hand lightly to Saix’s chest.

“Come on. _Y’know_ \- Replica Isa... _Replisa_ -” The explanation draws ire from Saix, who shoves Xigbar an arm’s length away in embarrassed distaste. The other man shrugs, smirk still plastered on his face. “No? Too on the nose? Forget it then- what’s eating you?“

Almost as if in response, voices come floating in from the hall behind them, on the far side of the Grey Room. Axel, Roxas, and Xion come strolling in- oblivious to their company. Saix scowls as Axel comments on something he can’t quite make out and the other two burst into a fit of giggles, their hands reaching for each other as they double over with laughter. 

It _infuriates_ him how close the trio have become. 

Xigbar traces Saix’s line of sight, arching an eyebrow as the three flop onto a nearby couch.

“Oh yeah, real shame about Axel. We were all so sure you two would hit it off better. I thought maybe Ash Tray over there just didn’t like the replicas, but… well, him and Poppet seem to be getting along just dandy, huh?”

“What do you _want_ , Xigbar?” The venom in Saix’s voice is fevered enough that Xigbar takes another precautionary step back, raising his hands in surrender.

“Nothin’. Just thought it was funny, is all. You and her aren’t so different, y’know? You’d think Axel would realize it.”

And Xigbar leaves it at that, threading his fingers behind his head as he stalks off to parts unknown, leaving Saix with a renewed sense of disgust and betrayal.

What _was_ the difference between them?

There was none, as far as Saïx was concerned. They were both imperfect copies of their respective Heroes; meant for nothing more than to be used as a tool for the Organization. A means to an end. 

They were both hollow, lifeless puppets who would play at being human until their master grew bored of their newest toy and cast them aside in favor of another. Surely as it had happened to _him_ would it happen to _it_. 

They were both echoes of a heart, neither of them capable of feeling the phantom beating in their chest as anything more than a physical reaction. And yet _it_ didn’t even have the memories of its Other’s life. It was unburdened by the crushing absence of its heart, unbothered by the knowledge that once it _felt_ , once it _was_. But then... He never _was_ either. He had been created in a lab; given form and had stolen memories poured into him without a second’s hesitation. The absence of his heart was no more real than its was. There is no difference between them. 

Why then, does Axel continue to favor it over Saïx?

Why does he spend every waking moment with the Hero’s nobodies when Axel had once spent his time with him- a version of him, at least? Why do Axel’s flaxen eyes light up, like polished, sun-soaked amber, when they catch sight of _them_ , but don’t offer even a passing glance to Saix when they cross paths in the hall? 

_You’re not him,_ he had spat at Saïx once, _you’ll never **be** him_. 

Yet neither was it the hero it was meant to replicate. What difference was there, then, between them? Why was Xion’s divergence to be praised and his to be hated? Why did Axel care so much for the thing, when _care_ was not something Axel could feel in the first place? Why, then... was Saix not enough?

“Oh boy, it’s _awfully_ early for such a bad mood, don’t you think?”

Another voice cuts into his musings, and Saix turns to scowl at Axel, who is standing before him with a hand on his hip. On the far side of the room, Saix can see the children have left- presumably, given the hour, off to complete their mission for the day. The replica brings the clipboard in his hands up to his face, checking the assignments for the day and releases the softest sigh.

“You’re letting yourself get too close to them.” Saix is muttering the words to Axel before he can stop himself, and the redhead’s eyebrows shoot up, amusement radiating off him as he snatches the clipboard from Saix and scans the assignments for the day.

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.” He presses the clipboard into Saix’s chest and gives the replica a lazy salute as he begins to walk backward into a newly summoned Corridor. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when we’re out doing our jobs and you’re stuck in here being Xemnas’s errand boy. Don’t work too hard.”

His parting words are a slap to the face, and for several minutes, it’s all Saix can do to glower at the spot where Axel disappeared, sick to his stomach with longing jealousy. 

...The sooner he grows bored with it, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one is so long! I've been WAITING to introduce replisa/saix for ages, and I'm excited that he's finally HERE. 
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support, it really means the world to me. <3


	9. ix.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa learns about the Organization, piece by piece, and day by day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine, am I right? 
> 
> I've been staring at this for a while, and I finally managed to kick my butt into gear and finish it for y'all.

Back at the clocktower, another picturesque sunset kisses the backdrop of Twilight Town. 

Roxas and Isa sit on the ledge overlooking the station, tense silence and several feet of space between them. The boy had remained skeptical when Isa insisted that he wasn’t a threat to the child and once he had managed that, it had taken another ten minutes to convince Roxas that Isa was- in no way, shape, or form- the “imposter” that the Organization was preoccupied with. But what had _finally_ convinced Roxas to consent to speaking with Isa was the offering of a bribe: a sea salt ice cream in exchange for maybe an hour of the boy’s time.

Below them, the ambient sounds of Twilight Town lilt upwards, and as Roxas munches away at the pale blue snack, Isa is content to let his eyes fall shut and just _listen_ \- a melancholy comfort washing over him as he remembers the way his homeworld had sounded much the same. There was a familiarity of this world that Isa latched onto, and perhaps that is why he had been so eager to claim this world as his new home base. 

“This whole time…”

“Hm?” Roxas murmurs something and Isa peeks an eye open to glance sideways at the boy, swallowing the feeling of deja vu that’s been pestering him since the pair met only a little while ago. There’s something distantly familiar about Roxas- something that Isa can’t quite place- and it troubles Isa. He continues to peer at Roxas, frowning, but the hood of his coat shrouds Isa’s face from view, and so Roxas does not acknowledge Isa’s gaze. 

Staring ahead, off into the distance, Roxas continues, taking another small bite of ice cream before he speaks again.

“They told me... They told me I was the only one who could wield the keyblade. But-” he sighs, heavy and weary and much too largely for a boy his age. “But I’m _not_. There’s Xion...and now _you_? Why would they lie?”

Isa shifts uncomfortably atop the ledge, angling himself only slightly more towards Roxas. Beneath his hood, Isa’s eyebrows knit together. He can feel the crushing weight of responsibility atop Roxas’s shoulders as the boy lets out another quiet sigh, and it cuts Isa like a searing knife through flesh. He knows all too well the sort of expectations and responsibilities that come along with wielding the keyblade, and understands better than most what that weight can do atop young shoulders; he wouldn’t wish that burden on anyone. Swallowing thickly, Isa considers his next words carefully.

“I don’t know that what you were told was a _lie_ , per se. The true nature of keyblades is not fully understood by most. Why- or even _how_ \- a person is called to wield one is a mystery to even long-standing masters.” In his mind’s eye, Isa is sixteen again, standing alone in Master Yen Sid’s tower and being fed a similar speech. It had been no comfort to the traumatized teen then, and Isa has no doubt that his words reach Roxas’s ears in a similar manner. He sighs, at a loss. “The… wait- Xion? There’s another?”

The shift in focus takes immediate hold on Roxas, whose piercing eyes seem to spark to life at the mention of the other’s name. 

“Xion? Yeah.” Roxas takes one last, large bite of his dessert and winces as the cold hits him at once. “We haven’t spent a lot of time together, but she’s special. Like me. I- That’s what the others keep saying, anyway.”

“I see.” Isa is silent for a long moment as he considers this new information. The Organization has not one, but _two_ wielders and Isa is absolute in his belief that this is all by design. As he is _well_ aware, keyblade wielders are a rare breed- so for the group to have a pair of them (and for them to have two wielders that Isa was unaware even _existed_ ) is highly suspect.

The only question that remains, then, is why the Organization would need a single Keyblade in the first place. There were many things a Keyblade and its wielder were capable of accomplishing, but nothing that immediately strikes Isa as something that would be valuable for a group like the Organization. Unless-

“Hey, what do I call you, anyway?”

Roxas’s sudden query takes Isa off guard, and he blinks blankly at the boy in silent response. There’s an awkward silence as Roxas squints into the shadowed abyss that hides Isa’s face, trying to discern any sort of facial features before giving up with a shrug.

“It’s just,” Roxas continues, peering at the bare, sticky popsicle stick of his ice cream before frowning and shoving it in a pocket. ”I don’t know your name. I haven’t even seen your _face_. You… you say you’re not the imposter, but I don’t know what else to call you.”

Isa draws in a deep breath, fearful for the possibility that Roxas might decide, here and now, that the stranger before him is indeed not worthy of his time. It would be a terrible loss for them both to sever the connection between them- as new as it may be. “You can call me... a friend.”

“Friends don’t keep secrets like this from each other.” Roxas’s eyes narrow, and Isa notices the slight change in the child’s posture- the way he tenses up as he speaks. “At least not the ones I have.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on the shrouding of my appearance.” Isa moves to stand as he responds, his tone resolute and leaving no room for Roxas to interrupt. “I may not be the imposter that your organization seeks, but I have enemies all the same. Moreover, as a sign of good faith, I would appreciate you keeping this meeting of ours between us. As for my name…”

Isa’s breath hitches as his mouth begins to form the familiar shape of his own name, but stops just short of speaking it. There was a possibility- however small it may be- that the Organization would still catch wind of this meeting with Roxas. And if that were the case… well- he’s not sure what use an alias would be, but the thought of using one is a small comfort that Isa is not keen on denying himself.

“You may call me Lea.”

A week later, Isa meets with Roxas again.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if the junior keyblade wielder would _want_ another meeting with him. Isa had- for all intents and purposes- given Roxas very little reason to trust him. But the boy had insisted they meet again- _it’s something I can’t quite put my finger on_ , he had said before they’d parted ways, _it just feels like we were destined to meet each other_.

He sits now, as he had a week ago, on the edge of the clocktower. Beside him- still several feet away, but closer now than the last time- sit Roxas and a young girl that looks to be around Roxas’s age. The boy had introduced her as Xion- the other keyblade wielder of the Organization- but, truthfully, Isa hadn’t retained much more about her than that. She was a nice enough girl, of course- sweetly soft-spoken, and far more polite than he’d expect from a member of the Organization- but watching them chatter away with their ice cream, in dark, hooded coats which were eerily fitted to their youthful statures was enough to make Isa’s blood boil. 

_Empty shells that retain the memories of when they were human. They are what’s left when a heart gives in to the darkness within it._

Familiar words echo in Isa’s mind and, from beneath the drawn hood of his own cloak, Isa frowns deeply. To be a member of the Organization, one must be a nobody. And to become a nobody, one must lose their heart. But the beings sitting beside him- they’re children. They’re hardly even old enough to know of the darkness that lies in people’s hearts, much less old enough to succumb to the darkness in their own hearts. Although...

Isa shifts and stares out at the napalm colored sky, his own heart heavy. 

It wouldn’t be the _first_ time the Organization has stooped to other means of collecting bodies for its cause. Isa’s grip on the stone of the clocktower’s ledge tightens considerably, and his heart begins to race. They had done it to _him_ as well, hadn’t they? Taken him and ripped him asunder, body from heart- to be used as nothing more than a means to an end. They had _taken_ him and Isa had _left_ him, their parting words nothing more than the screaming desperation of each other’s name.

“...Axel...” 

The name cuts deep into Isa’s thoughts and tears him unceremoniously from his introspection. He snaps his head in the direction of the children, whose hushed voices have grown distant and somber, and notices the way Roxas frowns as he holds his ice cream stick up to the setting sun- notices the soft, comforting way Xion pats a hand on Roxas’s leg in response. The two smile at each other, melancholy, and a chilling realization dawns on Isa: _they know Lea_.

It had occurred to him, of course, that other members in the Organization would know of Lea but- to be so physically close to someone with a connection to him, to have a link to his friend that Isa never thought he would have… it’s far more overwhelming than he’d imagined it’d be.

“Who’s Axel?”

His question is abrupt and stops the children’s conversation in its tracks. They look at him a moment, and in the silence that follows his query, Isa can feel deep-seated embarrassment begin to creep its way into his heart and take hold.

“He…” Roxas hesitates, breaking the silence, “Axel’s a friend. He was... the first one I ever met in the Organization who treated me like a _person_ , and not just a nobody. But- he’s been missing for a while now and- we’re worried.”

Isa can feel his blood turn to ice.

“Missing,” he repeats softly, his mouth forming the shape of the familiar word with little hesitance. Despite everything- despite the number of times over the years that he’s had to say it about Lea- it still feels bitter and unnatural in his mouth. 

“Hmm.” Xion nods her head once, agreeing, and tucks a strand of midnight black hair delicately behind her ear. “Roxas said Axel got assigned a special mission, but that was a while ago, and no one’s heard from him since then.”

Isa doesn’t respond past a noncommittal hum as he focuses his sights back on the horizon. He winds his hands into tight fists and tries to swallow the tight, sinking sensation that grabs him in its vice grip. If even the Organization didn’t know if Lea was still alive, maybe... maybe he really _was_ gone. Maybe he _had_ perished in the castle, alongside the others, and maybe there was no further reason for Isa to bother himself with the nobodies. If Lea is really, _truly_ gone, what purpose does he have?

“...hey, your ice cream is melting; eat up.” Roxas speaks to Xion- so softly that Isa barely hears him- and, again, the Keyblade Master turns his gaze to the others. 

_They really are just **children** , aren’t they? _

Children caught in the crossfire of something that’s likely far bigger than either of them imagine. Lea had been roughly the same age when they’d taken him and, well- Isa reaches beneath his hood to absently run a fingertip across the bridge of his nose, and along the raised flesh of the X-shaped scar that mars his face- he knows better than most what being raised in the Organization will to do a person. 

Roxas and Xion go back to chattering idly and Isa smiles softly, his mind made up. He will do for them what he failed to do for Lea: break the Organization’s hold on them and bring them home.

Over the next couple of weeks, Isa makes a habit of meeting with Roxas and Xion regularly. 

Each day he waits for them atop the clocktower, ice cream in hand, and when their work for the day is complete, they meet him. Roxas and Xion regale Isa with stories from the day’s adventure- or with stories from life in the Organization and, occasionally, Isa reciprocates with stories from his childhood.

Today, Isa expects it will be just him and Roxas again. 

Sometime in the last week, Xion had been sent on a mission and, according to Roxas, she still hadn’t returned. It was… a concerning development to say the least, and Isa had offered to search for her on whatever world she had been assigned to- just to make sure she was safe- but Roxas had no way of knowing for sure exactly _which_ world she had been assigned to, and the boy was certain that the Organization member in charge of missions would never divulge that information to him. So all that they can realistically do is wait. It’s frustrating to feel so wholly useless- to simply sit around holding one’s breath while waiting for the eventual return of a friend, but Xion is a strong wielder, and if Isa is certain of _anything_ , it’s that she can look out for herself. 

As Isa rounds a corner leading to the clocktower he glances up, searching for the mess of familiar blond hair; he’s running late, and Roxas will likely already be there waiting for him. But as he squints against the blinding light of the sunset, something else entirely catches his eye. Another body sitting beside Roxas on the tower’s ledge: longer and lankier than either Roxas or Xion and with a brilliant mess of bright red hair atop his head.

“ _Lea_.” He speaks the name too softly, like anything louder will attract Lea’s attention or- worse- dispel what is clearly the mirage of his visage. 

It _has_ to be the low light of the setting sun playing a trick on his eyes. The deep red of the sunset’s vibrant color palette reflecting off of the inlaid gold of the tower’s massive clock face. He… it can't be. Isa had spent the last few weeks convinced his friend was gone- convinced he’d never see him again but… Lea reaches out to Roxas then, ruffling the boy’s hair and Isa feels the pit in his stomach drop. It is him. There: alive and well and sitting next to Roxas like nothing. 

Isa has to stop himself from throwing open a Corridor and running to them. Lea may be back, he reminds himself painfully, but Lea is still Axel. And- if the stories from Roxas and Xion are any indication- Axel’s attitude when he’d last met with Isa wasn’t necessarily an isolated incident. The loss of his heart had twisted Lea into something dark and sinister.

And for the first time in nearly ten years, Isa wonders if getting Lea back is even something that’s still feasible. Lea had been a child when the Organization had taken him, but Roxas and Xion were children _now_. Children at the mercy of _him_ and those worse than him- children who deserved freedom above all else. Could they truly be free of the Organization if Isa drags Lea along with them? Who’s to say Lea is even _Lea_ anymore, and that the monster wearing Lea’s skin isn’t the only thing left of his old friend? 

Five days later, Isa is seated alone on the clocktower. 

“Lea.”

Roxas’s voice materializes behind him and, though Isa is glad to hear from him, the underlying distress in his voice ties an immediate knot in Isa’s stomach. He shifts to face the boy and is surprised to see Xion trailing closely behind him. 

“Xion. You’re _safe_.” He’s climbing to his feet before the words have fully left his mouth and, in an instant, he’s beside the young girl. Isa reaches a hesitant hand out, unsure if a hug would be appropriate between them, but stops short as he notices the dejected way she smiles up at him in response and the gentle way she cradles herself in her own arms. “...what happened?”

Xion swallows thickly, and Isa catches the way her normally bright eyes well up with tears as she works up the courage to speak. Roxas steps beside Xion, setting a comforting hand lightly against either of her arms, murmuring a quiet consolation, and she sniffles once before speaking.

“It’s… the keyblade-” Her delicate fingers curl tightly around the stiff, new leather of her coat as her voice cuts out. Roxas squeezes her arms in a wordless encouragement and with a sniff she continues. “I- I can’t use it anymore.”

“ _What_?!” Isa’s eyes go wide, equal parts shock and disbelief. “When did this happen? _How_?”

“I don’t know, but… If I can’t use the keyblade, I can’t do my job. And if I can’t collect hearts, Saix-”

Xion’s voice wavers as she tries to continue explaining before crumbling entirely, and she lets out a great, shuddering sob. Roxas and Isa both stand beside her as she cries, neither one of them exactly sure of how to respond, and it’s all Isa can do to avert his eyes as Roxas pulls her into a proper hug. 

“But, hey- remember what Axel said? I can collect twice as many hearts for you until you get the keyblade back.” He guides Xion gently to the tower’s ledge and helps her as she lowers herself to sitting before taking a seat beside her.

“But what if...I never get it back?”

Isa takes a seat on the opposite side of Xion, frowning deeply as his mind begins to race. There were several ways for a keyblade to break- he’s experienced firsthand how much stress a keyblade can take before it shatters- but to lose the ability to wield one entirely? It was nearly unheard of.

Nearly, he reminds himself, but not entirely.

There had been a time in his life when he had lost the keyblade as well, had there not? For two years after he had initially summoned the thing, Isa had been unable to use Lunar Eclipse- or to even call it to his side. Master Yen Sid had used every tool in his grand arsenal to try and reconnect Isa’s heart with his keyblade, but nothing had worked. It hadn’t been until Isa had been put into a preternatural sleep- had the deep recesses of his mind poked and prodded at- that he was reunited with it. But that had been a special case. While Isa had only just discovered the keyblade, Xion has had hers for as long as he’s known her.

The keyblade itself was an extension of the heart, so losing the ability to wield one should logically go with the loss of one's heart. But… Xion was a nobody, and a nobody’s very existence was established on the basis of being without a heart. So by that logic, she and Roxas should never have had the ability to wield the keyblade in the first place, right?

“Lea,” Roxas calls out to Isa suddenly, his voice hopeful as he balls a hand into a fist. “ _You_ know all about the keyblade- can you help her get it back?”

Two pairs of eyes turn to him then and, though Isa’s form is still hidden beneath the hood of his coat, he has to avert his gaze from their own out of… embarrassment? Discomfort? He couldn’t truly say, though perhaps it has something to do with what he knows in his heart to be true: if Xion’s lost the power of the keyblade, there’s virtually no reliable way to get it back.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, selecting his words carefully. “The only _sure_ way I know of to call the keyblade back to you is not something which you should attempt while you’re still in a weakened state and-”

_And a Dive is not something that can be done without a heart to dive **into**._

He can’t bring himself to finish the thought aloud and instead lets the incomplete sentence hang heavy between the three of them. He… wants to help Xion, any way he can- but her very existence is uncharted territory. For all he knows a Dive into the girl’s (lack of) heart could be more dangerous than her going on without the keyblade. 

Isa sighs, finally reaching out to set what he hopes is a comforting hand atop Xion’s shoulder. 

“We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

Today he has no plans to meet with the children- but still, they occupy his thoughts. 

They’ve spent nearly three weeks trying everything Isa can think of to call the keyblade back to Xion’s side. But week after week, meditation session after reflection exercise after spell- and they’re no closer to unlocking the mystery of its disappearance. The mounting frustration from all three of them is palpable, and with each failed attempt to help her, a Dive into Xion’s heart looks even more promising. And yet _still_ , Isa cannot commit to bringing the idea up to her. If a nobody was truly as heartless as Isa’s been told, the damage that a Dive could do to Xion, should they attempt one, is untold.

Isa lets out a long sigh from where he sits, atop a roof in Twilight Town’s market square. He’d spent the better part of the morning just wandering through the town and thinking but, sometime around midday, Isa had given up on his stroll in favor of climbing to the roof of one of the taller buildings in the area in order to just watch the bustle of the sleepy town before him.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it. 

So much of this town and its inhabitants reminds him of Radiant Garden, that there are days when he nearly believes he’ll round a corner and cross into his old neighborhood. Absently, Isa unzips the very top of his Organization coat and reaches to fiddle with the now scorched and frayed ends of Lea’s old scarf. Does _he_ feel the same inexplicable pull of the town as Isa does? Is that why Axel returns here, day after day, to eat ice cream and sit and stare at the sunset? Is there a comfort in the way it feels- the warm breeze on his face and sea salt on his tongue- does it remind him of being human? Does it remind him of Isa?

Isa closes his eyes and imagines for a moment a simpler time. A vision of him and Lea: seated together on the tall stone wall that used to overlook their neighborhood, each with their own half-melted ice cream in hand, as the sun sets brilliant crimson in the distance. 

That particular fall day had been unseasonably warm, and Lea had managed to convince Isa to skip school so that they could play in the fountains instead. They had spent hours there until, fatigued and sunburnt, they finally dragged themselves back home. Lea’s mothers had been waiting for them when they’d snuck inside his house, upset that the pair had missed their classes for the day, but the women were never ones to say ‘no’ to their son, and so Lea had gotten off without so much as a slap on the wrist.

Isa, unfortunately, hadn’t been so lucky.

But Isa being grounded was never a deterrent for Lea, and the redhead had snuck into Isa’s room through the window maybe 45 minutes later, begging Isa to come hang out with him again. It hadn’t taken much pleading to convince Isa to escape the room and, before long, they were climbing to the upper part of the neighborhood to watch the sunset and eat ice cream. 

“The sunset’s extra red today-” Lea had spoken through a mouthful of salty-sweet ice cream, nudging Isa with an elbow as he grinned, “Must be angry about somethin’.”

“That’s _ridiculous_ ,” Isa responded, incredulous, before giving Lea a playful shove in response. “...Do you even know _why_ the sun sets red?” 

“Uh-uh.” Lea shook his head ‘no’ as he finished off his dessert. Very gently, he laid his head atop Isa’s shoulder, suppressing a yawn as he made himself comfortable. “... tell me.”

And so Isa had. He told Lea all about color and light and how- of all the colors- red’s the one that light carries the furthest. Isa talked and talked, and Lea just listened. Isa isn’t sure if Lea had retained any of the information, or if any of the science behind the sunset made sense to him, but Isa remembers most the soft look the other boy had given him once Isa had finally exhausted his knowledge on the topic. The sleepy, half-lidded way Lea had looked up at him from atop Isa’s shoulder, and the strange, twisting feeling Isa had felt just then they locked eyes for what seemed like the first time.

That had been the first time they-

“Nice view ya got here.”

A voice he’s never heard before speaks to him and Isa’s eyes snap open as his startled heart begins to pound wildly. The owner of the voice- a lean, angular man whose face lies hidden beneath the hood of a very familiar coat- chuckles, seemingly amused by Isa’s alarmed reaction, and takes a very casual seat along the ledge next to him, just out of reach but far closer than Isa would like. 

“You’re the Organization.” Isa tenses, his entire body on high alert, but his disbelief that one of their number is sitting right beside him roots Isa to the spot. He’d only thus far met Axel and the children, and kept his meetings with the latter a secret, but if another member of the Organization was able to find him so easily, then-

“The _whole_ Organization? Hah- as if!” The mystery Organization thug waves a dismissive hand before leaning back onto his opposite one. “I’m just one guy. Nothin’ special about me.”

“Are you really so ordinary?” Isa responds cooly, though his right hand curls inward, as if ready to call Solemn Vow to his side should he need it. “I would think by virtue of simply being in the Organization, you qualify as somebody special.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bluebonnet. Me? I’m-” The hooded man brings his free hand in a fist up to his face, not quite covering the snickers that betray the punchline to his joke, “I’m _nobody_.” 

“I see.” Isa’s face distorts for a second into something resembling secondhand embarrassment tinged with exasperation. Maybe he’s wrong. Given what he’s seen of the Organization so far, what he’s heard from them? There’s no way this hooded man could be a member. Perhaps _this_ is the fabled imposter that Roxas mentioned previously. Although… Isa cocks his head with a sigh before climbing to his feet and beginning to walk away. If he were the imposter, Isa finds it very hard to believe the Organization wouldn’t have caught him already. “In that case, I’ll leave you to your-”

A hand reaches out to grab Isa by his forearm, its fingers digging into the Keyblade Master’s flesh and startling him into silence. Isa glances to his side, curious as to how the other man’s managed to grab for him while still seated on the ledge of the roof, and is met only by the alarming sight of the other’s hand, disembodied and suspended in what looks like the familiar inky darkness of a Corridor.

“Isa- _wait_.” The other man speaks again, but the tone in his voice has shifted to something far more somber than it had been only a moment ago. Isa draws in a deep breath, unsettled by his sudden change in attitude, and in the span of that breath, the hooded man has teleported to mere inches in front of him. The hand on Isa’s arm is withdrawn as the other man moves, but before Isa can do anything with his freedom, the other man is gripping Isa roughly by the jaw and moving the Keyblade Master’s head around- as if inspecting it. The other man chuckles darkly before releasing Isa and taking another step back- placing a hand on his hip as he mutters to himself. “...you really do look just like him, don’tcha?”

“Like _who_?” 

The hooded man doesn’t offer an immediate response, opting only to click his tongue disapprovingly and wag a taunting finger in front of Isa.

“Now, now- you’ve got one of the elite members of Organization XIII right here in your lap and you want to waste your time asking pointless questions? What _are_ they teaching you in keyblade school these days?” 

It’s a trap. It has to be.

And yet, as Isa stares down the black void where the nobody’s face should be, he can’t help but wonder what choice he has but to play along. If the man isn’t Organization- this entire conversation will be nothing more than a waste of time; Isa will get some false leads, but it wouldn’t be anything that hasn’t happened to him before. On the other hand: if the nobody before him really _is_ a high ranking member, whatever tidbit of information Isa can glean from him would more than make up for the ultimately minor annoyance of dealing with him.

“Fine.” Isa hesitates, considering his question carefully. “What is the Organization up to? You have plans that involve keyblade wielders- I can only assume by the fact that you found me so easily that you’re aware of my rendezvous with the others- what do you need them for?”

“ _Very_ nice.” The other man nods, and Isa can practically hear the grin in his patronizing tone. “Though I thought by now the kid and little Poppet would have spilled the beans all about Kingdom Hearts.”

“ _Kingdom Hearts_?”

They… couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

Over the course of his training, Isa had been told all about the last time someone had attempted to summon Kingdom Hearts. Master Xehanort, a Keyblade Master himself, had attempted to summon the great Kingdom Hearts- to recreate the conditions of the Keyblade War in order to summon the χ-blade. But the results had been disastrous and only culminated in the loss of Master Eraqus and his students. If the nobodies- who were no Keyblade Masters themselves- were to attempt the same feat...there was no telling what disaster would be in store.

“I guess not. Kiddos have got a better handle on secrets than I gave ‘em credit for.” The other man shrugs nonchalantly, murmuring again to himself. “At the _very_ least, I’d expect the cherry bomb to spout off something about it on one of your dates, but- Axel’s a tough nut to crack. _Trust me_ , I’d know.”

There’s a heavy blanket of an implied _something_ in the other man’s choice of words and despite himself, Isa averts his eyes, his cheeks reddening. The other man cackles as he notices the shift in Isa’s disposition and sidles up to the taller man, slipping an arm around Isa’s shoulders.

“Don’t tell me you thought he was gonna _wait for you_. Ten years is a looong time- a guy gets lonely. Though-” He pokes a finger into Isa’s chest, more gently than Isa expects, and his voice softens to just above a whisper, “I’m sure you know _exactly_ how that is.”

Isa untangles himself from the other man’s arms in a huff, his face growing more red with each passing second. If the Organization meant to send their alleged second in command in order to get under Isa’s skin, it was working. 

“What exactly is it that you want from me... What did you say your name was again?”

“I _didn’t_ , but you’re smart enough to know that. And I don’t _want_ anything.” He holds his hands up innocently and begins to stroll back towards the ledge of the building. “I’m only here with a proposal. Y’know- you scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

He reaches the edge of the roof, but doesn’t break his stride. Isa lunges forward, throwing out an arm to make a grab for him, but the hooded man just keeps walking, suspended in mid-air, as if walking an invisible path. He strolls about a yard out into the nothingness before turning back around to face Isa.

“And I’m all _about_ having my back scratched.”

“Let’s say I’m interested in your proposal.” Isa begins, surprising even himself as he speaks, “What next? How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t, that’s the beautiful part. But- ah, what was that old saying about hearts and keys…”

“May your heart be your guiding key.” Again, the words come pouring from Isa before he can stop himself, and the other man snaps in recognition.

“ _That’s_ it. So let your heart guide you wherever it wants, _Master Isa_ ,” he draws out the honorific title as if there’s something amusing in the use of it, “...Name’s Xigbar, by the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a continuation of the scene with Xigbar and Isa, please feel free to check out my other fic "the sweet feeling of release". It was written way in advance of this chapter, so some details are a little different, but the basics of the situation remain the same! ;)
> 
> As usual, thank you so much to everyone that has kept me going with their encouragement as I worked through this latest chapter. Your kindness means the world to me, and it's because of y'all that I managed to get this done. 
> 
> I'm about to start another round of zine work, so again, updates will continue to be slow. Your patience is eternally appreciated. 
> 
> Likes, comments, and sharing of this fic really keep me going, so if you're liking where it's headed- please come scream at me about it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [when you wish upon a star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574396) by [xigithy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/pseuds/xigithy)




End file.
